THE  ROMANCE 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  L'AIGLON 


,  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THE  ROMANCE 

OF 

L'Aiglon 


AUTHORIZED    TRANSLATION 
From  the  French  of 

CAROLUS 

By 

J.    PAUL    WILSON 


NEW  YORK 

BRENTANO'S 
MCMI 


Copyright,  1900,  by 
BRENTANO'S 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  L'AlGLON  ......            I 

II.     VIOLETS 7 

III.  METTERNICH     .        .        .        .        .15 

IV.     THE  LETTER 21 

V.     COUNT  OTTO 25 

VI.  NEWS  FROM  PARIS  ....       29 

VII.  THE  SPY  .        .        .      '  .        .      ,  .       33 

VIII.  IN  THE  GROVE         ....      43 

IX.     AT  THE  BALL 51 

X.  COLETTE   ......       58 

XI.     CAMALDULES     .        .      __. ._.___ _ ^ — 63 

XII.  A  LESSON          ...        .        .       71 

XIII.  A  LAST  INTERVIEW          .        .        -79 

XIV.  THE  ROAD  TO  THE  THRONE   .        .      83 
XV.  THE  PUNISHMENT     .        .                 -87 


2128601 


vi  Contents 

PAGE 
CHAPTER 

XVI.    LOVE      .        .        - 

XVII.       SILVERS 

XVIII.     WITH  THE  EMPEROR     .       ".-        •     IT3 
XIX.     LA  SAN-SEVERINA  . 
XX.     THE  TEMPTER       .  .        .     129 

XXI.     FAILURE 
XXII.     THE  VISION  .  .        .     14? 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  L'AIGLON 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  L'AIGLON 


CHAPTER   I 
L'AIGLON 

THE  revolution  of  July  has  just 
taken  place.  The  Bourbon  dy- 
nasty, restored  at  the  cost  of  a  great  deal 
of  effort  by  the  sovereigns  of  the  Holy 
Alliance,  has  just  disappeared,  followed 
by  the  rage  of  the  populace. 

Let  us  enter  the  old  chateau  of  Schon- 
brunn,  the  imperial  residence  of  the 
Austro-Hungarian  monarchy. 

In  a  lofty  apartment  overlooking  the 
terraces  and  gardens  of  the  palace,  be- 
neath that  famous  platform,  La  Glori- 
ette,  where,  on  clear  days,  one  can  see 


2  L'Aiglon 

the  spires  of  St.  Jitienne,  the  cathedral 
of  Vienna,  a  young  man  is  reading  by 
the  light  of  a  desk-lamp.  The  great  cha- 
teau clock  has  just  sounded  the  hour  of 
midnight.  The  night  is  brilliant  with 
stars;  and  through  the  open  window 
comes  the  call  of  the  sentinels,  such  a 
proceeding  serving  an  excellent  purpose 
in  keeping  them  awake. 

The  young  man,  who  is  tall,  very  pale, 
and  very  slender,  raises  his  head  in  an 
abstracted  manner.  He  is  dressed  in  the 
Austrian  uniform,  and  his  brow,  grave 
and  sad,  seems  to  indicate  noble  but  bit- 
ter thoughts.  With  feverish  hands  he 
turns  over  a  pile  of  parchments  before 
him,  and  the  further  he  reads  the  more 
does  his  countenance  contract  and  his 
face  darken. 

"  Marengo !  Wagram !  Austerlitz !  " 
he  murmurs  in  a  low  voice ;  "  Water- 
loo !  "  and  his  head  drops.  A  hot  tear 
springs  to  his  eye.  At  every  vibration 
of  the  clock  he  trembles  visibly,  as  if  his 


L'Aiglon  3 

heart  were  too  'big  for  his  body  and  were 
going  to  burst — as  if,  despite  his  youth, 
he  had  no  more  illusions  and  only  waited 
for  death  to  free  him  from  his  troubles. 

Meanwhile  the  voices  of  the  sentinels 
continue  to  break  in  upon  him,  and  seem 
to  make  a  dismal  appeal  to  him  in  the 
silence  of  the  night. 

Marengo,  Wagram,  Austerlitz !  What 
has  he  to  do  with  those  sinister  names? 
He  is  too  young  to  have  been  present  at 
any  of  those  butcheries.  His  delicate 
hand  apparently  could  not  support  the 
sword,  the  handle  of  which,  inlaid  with 
precious  stones,  glitters  in  one  corner  of 
the  room  at  the  head  of  his  bed. 

He  continues  his  reading. 

Rapidly  he  casts  the  pages  he  has  fin- 
ished on  the  carpet  of  his  room.  But  the 
cold  night  air  interrupts  him  ere  long. 
He  rises,  trembling,  and  appears  before 
us  clearly. 

Who  is  this  youth  who  dreams  of  bat-i 
ties,  and  weeps  as  he  reads  the  story 


4  L'Aiglon 

of  Waterloo?  An  Austrian  officer,  as 
his  uniform  would  proclaim?  An  aide- 
de-camp  in  attendance  upon  Francis  I., 
the  head  of  the  Austrian  dynasty  ? 

No. 

One  lovely  morning  in  the  year  1811 
the  Paris  populace  came  swarming  out 
on  the  streets  and  public  squares  like  an 
immense  river  that  has  burst  beyond  its 
banks.  On  the  face  of  each  individual 
was  an  expression  of  joy  mingled  with 
anxiety.  In  the  Tuileries  a  group  of 
physicians  surrounded  Marie  Louise 
awaiting  her  deliverance.  A  little  while 
afterwards  the  cannon's  voice  at  the  In- 
valides  announced  to  France  and  to  the 
world  that  an  heir  was  born  to  the  soldier 
whom  fortune  had  crowned  Caesar.  He 
who  was  called  the  King  of  Rome  had 
just  been  ushered  into  the  world. 

The  young  king's  infancy  was  much 
like  that  of  the  other  mortals  called  by 
destiny  to  rule  over  nations.  His  mother, 
however,  had  a  narrow,  contracted  char- 


L'Aiglon  5 

acter,  which  was  not  improved  by  the 
rigid  restrictions  of  the  etiquette  which 
obtains  at  the  Austrian  court.  He  rarely 
saw  the  man-god  whom  he  tremblingly 
called  "  father." 

Then  came  the  evil  days — lost  battles, 
exile,  and  the  bitter  thought  ever  present 
in  his  mind  that  he  could  not  give  the 
small  boon  of  a  kiss  to  the  dying  Prome- 
theus. But  fate  decreed  that  he  should 
have  a  chance  still  fo  make  his  name 
known  to  mankind. 

The  Eagle,  galled  by  his  thongs — 
nailed,  as  it  were,  to  the  arid  rocks  of  a 
southern  solitude — had  spent  his  last 
days  hoping  great  things  for  his  son, 
whom  he  was  never  to  see  again. 

Like  a  sorry  bird  that  a  puff  of  wind 
has  blown  from  its  nest,  and  that  a  la- 
borer picks  up  and  gives  to  his  chil- 
dren for  a  plaything,  the  Eaglet  fell  to 
earth  when  the  Eagle  was  borne  away, 
and  went  to  hide  his  griefs  and  nurse  his 
aspirations  in  the  chateau  of  Schon- 


6  L'Aiglon 

brunn.  Here  he  spent  many  long,  weary, 
monotonous  days  in  the  company  of 
Francis  I.,  his  grandfather,  and  the 
wary  Prince  de  Metternich. 

It  is  the  Aiglon — the  Eaglet — whom 
we  have  just  seen  dressed  in  an  Austrian 
uniform,  running  eagerly  through  the 
Bulletins  of  the  Grand  Armee,  trem- 
bling at  the  spectacle  of  his  father's  vic- 
tories and  shedding  a  tear  at  the  recol- 
lection of  Waterloo. 


CHAPTER   II 

VIOLETS 

ON  the  morning  following  the  day 
when  we  saw  the  son  of  Napoleon 
(to  whom  his  grandfather  had  given  the 
title  of  Due  de  Reichstadt)  reading  the 
Bulletins,  the  young  man  entered  the 
gardens  and,  rapidly  crossing  the  marble 
terraces  and  the  parterres  of  flowers  kept 
in  order  by  an  army  of  mercenaries, 
gained  that  part  of  the  park  where  stood 
the  cheerful  cottage  of  the  chief  gardener. 
In  this  modest  lodge,  surrounded  with 
flowers,  lived  an  old  man,  a  former  sol- 
dier of  the  imperial  wars — one  of  the 
survivors  of  that  heroic  phalanx  which 
died  but  did  not  surrender.  Old  Silvere, 
as  his  name  was,  lived  there  in  modest 
style  by  means  of  the  pension  he  received 


8  L'Aiglon 

as  a  former  sergeant  of  the  Guard  and 
his  earnings  as  chief  gardener  of  the 
castle.  A  waif,  picked  up  one  Palm  Sun- 
day by  a  flower-girl  at  the  door  of  the 
Church  of  St.  Sulpice,  he  had  been 
brought  up  on  the  Paris  pavement ;  and, 
upon  the  death  of  his  mother  by  adop- 
tion, without  relations  or  friends,  he  set 
out  to  join  the  army ;  and  made  the  tour 
of  Europe  to  the  sound  of  the  drum, 
receiving  many  blows  and  returning 
them  with  interest. 

The  Emperor,  who  admired  brave 
men,  had  particularly  noticed  him ;  and 
when  the  young  King  of  Rome  took  his 
daily  airing  on  the  terrace  of  the  Tuileries 
the  courtiers  were  not  a  little  surprised 
to  see,  in  the  midst  of  the  swarm  of  dames 
d'honneur  who  followed  his  carriage,  a 
sergeant  of  Grenadiers  tightly  laced  in 
fcis  tunic  and  on  whose  breast  glittered 
the  star  of  the  brave.  It  was  Silvere, 
whom  the  interest  of  the  Emperor  had 
attached  to  the  person  of  his  son;  and 


Violets  9 

the  presence  of  this  simple  warrior,  in  the 
midst  of  the  splendid  uniforms  and  grace- 
ful feminine  toilets,  seemed  to  typify 
something  for  the  child  of  that  blind, 
passionate  tenderness  that  the  whole 
army  had  bestowed  on  his  father.  The 
devotion  of  this  humble  creature  had 
survived  even  misfortune;  and  while  the 
generals,  smothered  with  honors  and  fa- 
vors and  gorged  with  riches,  hastened  to 
forget  the  name  of  the  man  who  had 
raised  them  from  nothing,  in  order 
that  they  might  make  their  peace  with 
the  new  authorities,  the  old  soldier  re- 
mained in  the  service  of  his  young  mas- 
ter, and  succeeded,  by  the  help  of  the  lat- 
ter, in  spite  of  innumerable  difficulties 
and  the  opposition  of  Metternich,  in 
being  promoted  to  the  office  of  chief  gar- 
dener of  the  park  of  Schonbrunn. 

When  the  young  duke  reached  the 
light  grating  which  separated  from  the 
road  the  little  garden  where  Silvere  lov- 
ingly tended  his  roses,  he  was  surprised 


jo  L'Aiglon 

to  descry  his  old  servitor  promenading 
up  and  down  the  walks  of  his  little  do- 
main in  the  company  of  a  ravishingly 
beautiful  young  girl,  whose  features,  up 
to  that  time,  he  had  never  observed. 

Dark,  slender,  graceful,  of  an  ideal 
beauty,  and  with  a  bearing  full  of  grace 
and  modesty,  the  stranger,  as  she  walked, 
stooped  down  toward  the  flowers  and 
seemed  to  inhale  their  perfume  with  de- 
light. 

At  the  sight  of  the  prince,  a  vivid 
blush,  which  suffused  her  cheeks  and 
even  her  neck,  made  her  more  enchant- 
ing still. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Silvere,  uncov- 
ering his  gray  head,  "  will  your  Highness 
allow  me  to  present  to  you  Colette,  my 
daughter  by  adoption  ?  Her  school-days 
are  over,  and  she  has  come  here  late  in 
the  evening  of  my  life  to  bring  a  little 
sunshine  into  my  solitary  abode.  She 
is  a  child  of  one  of  my  brothers-in-arms, 
who  fell  at  my  side,  and  I  have  tried  to 


Violets  1 1 

fulfil  the  duties  of  a  father  toward  her. 
The  Emperor,  appreciating  the  services 
of  a  brave  soldier,  permitted  Colette  to 
attend  the  academy  at  St.  Denis.  The 
young  student,"  he  continued  with  a  kind 
smile,  "  did  great  credit  to  her  instruc- 
tors, and  the  ladies  there,  not  being  able 
to  teach  her  anything  more,  wished  to 
find  a  husband  for  her ;  but  the  dear  child 
remembered  the  old  soldier  who  had  so 
often  rocked  her  to  sleep  in  those  far-off 
days,  and,  learning  of  my  loneliness  in  my 
voluntary  exile,  flew  to  me  at  once  to 
console  and  comfort  my  declining  years." 

The  prince  bowed  respectfully  to  this 
young  girl,  whose  devotion  surrounded 
her  with  a  new  aureole. 

"  So  you  come  from  France,  Made- 
moiselle," said  he,  with  a  sigh.  "  From 
France — from  Paris,  perhaps,  where  I 
was  born.  You  are  a  fortunate  being — 
you  may  one  day  return  thither.  You 
are  destined  to  breathe  again  the  air  of 
that  dear  land,  to  hear  its  language ;  alas ! 


12  L'Aiglon 

those  are  things  denied  to  poor  exiles, 
and,  above  all,  denied  to  me.  You  doubt- 
less admire  these  roses ;  they  are  pos- 
sessed of  a  beauty  comparable  to  your 
own.  As  I  came  I  saw  you  hovering 
lovingly  over  them,  drinking  in  their  per- 
fume. Eh  bien!  As  for  me,  I  hate  them 
— they  belong  to  a  foreign  country. 
There  is  nothing  of  interest  to  me  here. 
I  care  for  nothing — neither  the  people 
nor  anything  else.  But  there !  how  un- 
grateful I  am.  I  make  an  exception  in 
favor  of  this  devoted  old  man,  who  has 
never  quitted  me  since  I  lay  in  my 
cradle,"  and  he  offered  his  hand  to  the 
old  servant,  who  took  it  and  kissed  it 
respectfully. 

Tears  came  into  the  young  man's  eyes, 
and  his  face,  which  was  melancholy  be- 
fore, became  darker  than  ever. 

Colette  advanced  nearer  toward  him, 
and,  opening  her  corsage  modestly,  drew 
out  a  letter  and  a  small  bunch  of  violets. 
The  latter  still  sent  forth  a  delicate  per- 


Violets  13 

fume,  though  the  flowers  were  already 
dry  and  faded. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  she,  bending  low 
before  him,  "  will  your  Imperial  High- 
ness permit  an  humble  dependent  to 
offer  you  these  flowers?  On  the  eve  of 
my  departure  from  my  country — from 
that  Paris  of  which  you  spoke  just  now — 
I  went  to  make  my  adieus  to  the  devoted 
women  who  had  watched  so  faithfully 
over  my  young  life  and  had  taken 
the  place  of  the  mother  that  I  lost 
early.  The  principal  left  me  for  a  mo- 
ment to  gather  some  flowers  in  the 
parterres  of  St.  Denis,  and,  knowing 
well  where  I  was  going,  she  gave  me 
these,  and  with  them  this  letter,  saying: 
'  These  are  for  an  exile.  When  you  see 
him  give  them  to  him,  and  say  from  me 
that  he  is  not  forgotten,  and  that  these 
flowers  of  France  and  this  letter  are  a 
witness  of  the  homage  of  his  fellow- 
countrymen  who  have  never  forgotten 
him.'  " 


14  L'Aiglon 

Silvere  here  brusquely  broke  off  the 
interview,  for,  in  spite  of  his  age,  his  eyes 
were  still  sharp  enough  to  see  that  Prince 
Metternich  was  intently  looking  at  them 
from  one  of  the  windows  of  the  chateau, 
and  seemed  not  to  have  missed  a  single 
detail  of  the  scene  which  had  just  taken 
place. 


CHAPTER   III 

METTERNICH 

OLD  Silvere  acted  wisely  in  inter- 
rupting a  conversation  which  was 
becoming  dangerous  both  to  his  master 
and  his  young  ward. 

In  that  vast,  luxurious  residence  where 
legions  of  valets  were  coming  and  going 
all  day  and  night,  where  the  windows  had 
eyes  and  the  walls  ears,  he  knew  that  he 
was  hardly  tolerated,  that  he  was  being 
watched  every  minute,  for  his  devotion 
to  the  young  prince  was  a  matter  of  com- 
mon knowledge.  He  knew  well  that 
every  one  in  the  empire — from  the  high- 
est to  the  lowest  in  rank,  from  the  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Empire  down  to  the  lowest 
scullion  in  the  State  kitchen — was  his 
enemy.  The  most  insignificant  of  his 
actions  was  likely  to  be  misinterpreted. 


1 6  L'Aiglon 

He  had  learned  by  bitter  experience  that 
the  slumbering  hostility  entertained  for 
him  needed  only  a  specious  pretext  to 
break  forth  into  open  warfare,  which 
would  have  the  effect  of  separating  him 
from  the  young  master  of  whom  he  had 
charge,  and  whom  he  had  sworn  never  to 
abandon. 

Poor  Silvere!  What  would  he  have 
thought  if  he  had  been  able  to  accompany 
us  into  the  luxurious  apartment  of  Met- 
ternich  and  observe  what  measures  that 
wily  diplomat  was  taking.  Metternich, 
after  closing  the  window,  returned  to  his 
desk,  and,  sitting  down  opposite  his  sec- 
retary, resumed  his  former  occupation  of 
tearing  open  the  voluminous  correspon- 
dence which  had  arrived  from  all  the 
capitals  of  Europe. 

Crouching  like  an  immense  spider  in 
the  midst  of  Europe's  diplomatic  web, 
loaded  with  riches  and  honors,  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  Grand  Croix  of  all  the 
orders  of  Europe,  His  Excellency  Clem- 


Metternich  17 

ens  Wenzel  Nepomuk  Lothar,  Prince  of 
Metternich-Winneburg,  Minister  of  State 
and  Grand  Chancellor  of  the  Austro- 
Hungarian  monarchy,  saw  the  tranquil- 
lity of  his  day's  and  night's  rest  troubled 
every  moment — the  spectre  of  Napoleon 
filled  him  with  fear  and  kept  him  always 
on  the  rack. 

Yet  the  Emperor  was  dead. 

Since  May  5,  1821,  that  detested  crea- 
ture, whom  he  had  cursed  so  often,  rested 
in  peace  a  thousand  leagues  distant  from 
that  Europe  which  he  had  dragged  in 
chains,  a  captive,  behind  his  triumphal 
car,  but  which  he  had  been  unable  to 
retain  in  subjection. 

On  this  particular  day  the  chancellor 
was  gloomier  and  more  nervous  than 
ever.  Happening  by  chance — entirely 
by  chance,  of  course — to  be  looking  out 
of  the  window  of  his  apartment,  he  had 
descried  the  son  of  that  hated  creature 
conversing  with  that  ill-bred  gro- 
gnard,  who  was  perpetually  turning  up 


1 8  L'Aiglon 

in  his  path.  The  thought  of  that  man 
who  made  kings  tremble,  and  was  nearly 
as  powerful  as  God  himself,  always  made 
his  blood  boil,  and  the  old  servitor  of  the 
young  p'rince,  with  his  genial,  frank  face, 
had  almost  an  equally  bad  effect  upon 
him.  It  was  come  to  such  a  point  that 
he — Metternich  the  master,  whom  no 
one  attempted  to  gainsay — was  fain  al- 
most to  lower  his  eyes  before  that  old 
soldier;  and  on  more  than  one  occasion 
he  had  gone  out  of  his  way  in  his  strolls 
in  the  park  to  avoid  meeting  old  Silvere 
face  to  face — the  old  soldier  who  never 
lowered  his  scarred  face  before  any  one. 
And  then  who  was  this  young  girl  con- 
versing so  confidentially  with  the  prince, 
and  presenting  him  with  something,  the 
character  of  which  the  onlooker  could 
not  discern  at  so  great  a  distance  ?  There 
was  also  a  sealed  package  given  to  him ; 
it  was  certainly  a  letter — a  petition,  per- 
haps. Could  it  be  a  petition  ?  The  ap- 
pealing attitude  of  the  young  girl  seemed 


Metternich  19 

to  indicate  it.  Certainly  it  was  a  com- 
munication from  France.  Now,  in  that 
country,  he  reflected,  there  was  consider- 
able commotion.  The  younger  branch 
of  the  family  was  not  yet  sufficiently 
firmly  seated  on  the  throne  provided  for 
it  by  the  insurrection.  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  mercenaries,  and  enjoyed  but 
an  indifferent  popularity.  It  had  every- 
thing to  fear  from  a  military  uprising, 
which  the  remembrances  and  regrets  of 
departed  glories  would  have  rendered 
irresistible.  In  such  case  there  was 
everything  to  fear,  and  it  was  necessary 
to  take  precautions  without  delay. 

Arousing  himself  from  his  dismal 
thoughts,  Metternich  turned  toward  his 
secretary,  who  was  working  at  his  elbow. 

"  We  won't  work  any  more  to-day," 
he  said,  rising  and  pushing  away  the  pile 
of  letters  spread  before  him ;  "  it  is  a 
pleasant  day;  you  may  take  a  holiday. 
Try  to  employ  it  well,  but  be  here  to- 
morrow early  to  make  up  for  lost  time." 


2O  L'Aiglon 

The  young  man  rose  from  his  desk, 
bowed  respectfully  to  his  chief,  and  left 
the  room. 

When  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  had 
died  out  in  the  distance,  Metternich  re- 
turned hurriedly  to  the  table  and  rang 
his  bell.  A  lackey  was  in  attendance  at 
once,  and  stood  in  front  of  his  master 
awaiting  his  orders.  Buried  in  his  re- 
flections, the  diplomat  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  his  presence  until,  chancing  to 
raise  his  head,  'he  said  quickly,  as  if  in 
response  to  the  mute  interrogation  of 
the  man : 

"  Pierre,  is  Count  Otto  de  Falkenstein 
in  the  chateau  ?  If  so,  hunt  him  up,  and 
tell  him  that  I  desire  him  here,  and  wish 
him  to  come  quickly." 

The  lackey  hurried  off  to  obey  the  com- 
mand, and,  gloomier  than  ever,  the 
chancellor  seated  himself  again  at  'his 
desk  and  resumed  the  task  of  examining 
the  numerous  documents  heaped  up  be- 
fore him. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  LETTER 

WHEN  he  had  left  Silvere  and  Co- 
lette, Reichstadt  returned  to  his 
apartments  greatly  troubled.  The  sight 
of  this  young  girl,  so  tender  and  devoted, 
who  had  spoken  to  him  in  such  a  touch- 
ing way  of  his  beloved  country,  made  his 
heart  beat  quicker,  and  gave  birth  to 
sentiments  that,  until  then,  he  had  been 
unfamiliar  with.  He  gazed  reverently  at 
the  bunch  of  violets  for  a  long  time,  and 
then  placed  them  gently  on  his  desk. 
The  sight  of  these  flowers,  withered 
though  they  were  after  their  long  journey 
from  France,  threw  him  into  a  sad  rev- 
erie not  unmixed  with  pleasurable  emo- 
tions. Did  they  not  typify  his  own  des- 
tiny ?  Although  he  was  so  young  he  had 


22  L'Aiglon 

seen  few  days  untroubled  by  clouds,  and, 
at  an  age  when  persons  of  either  sex  have 
joyful  hearts  and  smiling  faces,  he  felt 
himself  burdened  with  a  weight  of  years 
almost  impossible  to  bear. 

But  more  important  matters  came  to 
change  the  current  of  his  meditations. 
He  remembered  the  letter  that  Colette 
had  given  him,  the  seals  of  which  he  had 
not  yet  broken.  He  hastily  broke  it 
open,  and  hardly  had  he  cast  his  eyes 
upon  it  when  he  carried  it  to  his  lips  and 
give  it  a  long,  pious  kiss. 

He  had  recognized  the  writing  of  his 
father,  the  Emperor  Napoleon. 

Dated  at  Saint  Helena,  the  letter  had 
been  written  during  the  last  few  days  of 
that  remarkable  man. 

In  the  brief,  concise  style  of  a  soldier, 
through  which,  however,  sometimes 
flashed  gleams  of  paternal  feeling,  the 
captive,  too  proud  to  complain  of  his 
fate,  sketched  out  for  his  beloved  son 
the  plan  of  a  restoration  of  the  Empire. 


The  Letter  23 

With  the  keen  insight  which  is  the  pre- 
rogative of  genius,  and  reading  the  future 
like  an  open  book,  he  reviewed,  step  by 
step,  the  acts,  good  and  bad,  of  the  dy- 
nasty which  had  overthrown  him. 

In  conclusion,  he  urged  upon  his  son 
that  when  the  opportunity  should  come 
he  would  not  hesitate  to  draw  his  sword 
and  boldly  claim  the  patrimony  for  the 
preservation  of  which  his  father  had 
struggled  until  the  end.  Devoted  friends 
who  had  never  abandoned  him,  and  in 
whom  he  had  the  most  implicit  confi- 
dence, would  be  able  to  decide  as  to  the 
proper  time,  and  would  inform  him  of 
the  hour  and  place  where  an  appeal  to 
arms,  sanctioned  by  his  presence,  would 
have  the  best  chance  of  success. 

Then,  like  Saul  on  his  way  to  Damas- 
cus that  day  when  the  light  of  the  Most 
High  appeared  before  his  soul,  the  young 
man  fell  on  his  knees  in  impulsive  testi- 
mony to  the  genius  of  the  great  man 
who  had  given  him  birth,  and  swore  to 


24  L'Aiglon 

shake  off  that  unworthy  servitude  to 
which  he  had  been  consigned,  to  recon- 
quer his  lost  heritage,  and  never  to 
sheathe  his  sword  until  that  day  when, 
coming  out  of  Notre  Dame,  the  crown  on 
his  head  and  the  sceptre  in  his  hand,  he 
should  be  strong  enough  to  avenge 
crimes,  treasons,  and  insults,  but  noble 
enough  to  pardon  them. 

A  pale,  timid  child  had  a  moment  be- 
fore entered  the  room;  there  was  ready 
to  leave  it  a  young  man  of  steadfast  mien 
and  lofty  bearing — a  man  prepared  to 
throw  down  the  gauntlet  to  the  future 
and  abide  the  consequences. 


CHAPTER  V 

COUNT   OTTO 

WHEN  Fouche,  Duke  of  Otranto, 
the  former  chief  of  police  under 
Napoleon,  and,  after  the  Restoration, 
charged  by  Louis  XVIII.  with  the  same 
functions,  had  fallen  into  disfavor  with 
his  royal  master,  he  felt  it  advisable  to 
leave  Paris.  In  the  past  he  had  held  in 
his  hands  the  threads  of  all  the  conspir- 
acies against  every  government  he  had 
served  since  the  Directory ;  but  he  thor- 
oughly appreciated  that  now  his  public 
career  was  ended,  and  he  wisely  resigned 
himself  to  a  life  of  obscurity  in  the  future. 
He  had  little  difficulty  in  arriving  at 
the  conclusion  that  Austria  was  the  best 
country  for  him  to  select  for  an  asylum, 
and  he  resolved  that  he  would  end  his 


26  L'Aiglon 

days  in  peace  there,  safe  from  the  ven- 
geance that  his  duplicity  and  odious  rule 
had  caused  him  to  fear.  Fearing  that  a 
tragic  epilogue  would  succeed  to  a  career 
soiled  with  crime  and  infamy,  he  turned 
into  ready  cash  all  the  property  he  had 
acquired  by  serving  and  betraying  his 
many  masters,  and  went  to  live  at 
Prague,  hoping  thus  to  avoid  attention 
as  much  as  possible. 

He  took  with  him  a  serving-woman, 
and  a  young  man  who  called  him  "  my 
guardian,"  but  who,  in  reality,  was  the 
fruit  of  one  of  those  temporary  unions 
which  he  contracted  during  the  troub- 
lous times  when  he  was  in  power. 

The  youtlh  grew  up  in  the  company  of 
these  two  old  persons;  and,  when  the 
question  of  educating  him  came  up,  the 
old  man  placed  him  with  the  Jesuits  of 
Friburg,  where  there  was  a  college  con- 
secrated to  the  upbringing  of  youth. 

Young  Hopeful  did  great  credit  to  his 
instructors.  He  assimilated  without  dif- 


Count  Otto  27 

ficulty  the  various  sciences  that  the  emi- 
nent professors  there  were  so  well  fitted 
to  teach  him ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  his 
lack  of  openness  soon  alienated  him  from 
the  friendship  and  esteem  of  his  fellow- 
pupils.  At  the  death  of  his  mysterious 
protector,  who  departed  this  life  at 
Trieste  in  1820,  his  studies  were  ab- 
ruptly terminated,  and  he  found  him- 
self thrown  upon  his  own  resources. 
Possessing  but  little  that  he  could  call 
his  own  (for  Fouche  had  made  no  pro- 
vision for  him  in  his  will),  and  embittered 
by  the  shipwreck  of  his  brilliant  hopes, 
young  Otto  tried  everything  and  suc- 
ceeded in  nothing.  Fond  of  pleasure 
and  enjoyment,  the  slave  of  fiery  passions 
that  the  slenderness  of  his  means  pre- 
vented him  from  satisfying,  he  gradually 
went  down  the  road  that  leads  to  crime 
and  shame. 

One  evening,  after  a  drunken  brawl  in 
which  he  had  killed  the  pilferer  of  the  few 
florins  in  his  possession,  he  was  arrested 


28  L'Aiglon 

by  the  police,  who  seemingly  had  kept  a 
particularly  close  watch  over  him.  By 
some  mysterious  but  powerful  influence, 
he  was  saved  from  punishment.  He  then 
disappeared  for  several  years,  and  no  one 
knew  what  had  become  of  him. 

Then  one  day  he  returned  to  Vienna, 
cock  of  the  walk  and  spending  his  money 
like  water,  having  added,  by  the  favor  of 
the  chancellor,  to  his  plebeian  name  of 
Otto,  the  title  of  "  Count  de  Falken- 
stein."  One  night  Metternich,  being  in 
want  of  a  tool,  had  thrown  his  net  into 
the  purlieus  of  Vienna  society,  and  by 
chance  had  drawn  up  a  man  suited  to 
his  needs. 


CHAPTER  VI 

NEWS   FROM   PARIS 

THE  dependent  for  whom  the  Prince 
de  Metternich  had  sent  would 
have  made  considerably  more  haste  if  he 
had  been  able  to  divine  with  what  impa- 
tience the  Chancellor  of  the  Empire  was 
awaiting  (him.  Accustomed  as  the 
younger  man  was  to  the  impatience  of 
the  great,  he  would  have  been  extremely 
uneasy  as  to  the  consequences  of  show- 
ing little  haste  in  complying  with  the 
orders  of  the  minister  who,  like  Louis  le 
Grand,  did  not  like  to  wait. 

When  he  knocked  at  the  door  of  the 
prince's  cabinet,  the  latter  was  striding 
up  and  down  the  apartment,  crushing  in 
his  feverish  hands  a  letter  which  a  cabi- 


30  L'Aiglon 

net   courier   had   just   brought   to    the 
chateau. 

The  news  which  his  correspondent 
— the  prefect  of  police  of  Paris — had 
given  him  was  anything  but  reassuring. 
According  to  him,  a  Bonapartist  con- 
spiracy was  on  the  point  of  breaking  out, 
having  for  its  object  the  reestablishment 
of  the  Empire  and  the  turning  upside 
down  of  the  present  regime.  Numerous 
emissaries  had  crossed  the  frontier;  po- 
lice reports,  only  a  few  hours  old,  an- 
nounced the  disappearance  simulta- 
neously from  Paris  of  several  generals 
of  the  Empire,  secret  partisans  of  the 
old  regime,  who  were,  it  was  believed, 
making  their  way  towards  Vienna  with 
the  intention  of  seeing  the  prince  and 
winning  him  over — kidnapping  him,  if 
necessary.  The  plan  then  was  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  frontier,  where,  at  the 
head  of  several  regiments  whose  loyalty 
to  the  government  was  suspected,  they 
would  advance  by  forced  marches  on 


News  from  Paris  31 

Paris,  raising  the  populace  and  the 
troops  on  the  way  thither. 

King  Louis-Philippe,  continued  the 
prefect  of  police,  had  not  placed  much 
credence  at  first  in  what  he  termed  the 
lying  rumors;  but  gradually  the  reports 
assumed  such  a  character  of  consistency 
that  a  council  was  held  in  the  Tuileries 
to  arrange  with  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs  for  drawing  up  a  diplomatic  note 
to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Austro-Hun- 
garian  monarchy,  advising  him  of  what 
was  in  the  wind  and  praying  him  to  use 
all  his  influence  over  the  Duke  of  Reich- 
stadt  to  dissuade  him  from  an  undertak- 
ing which  threatened  to  revolutionize 
Europe,  and  certainly  would  result  in  the 
shedding  of  rivers  of  blood. 

The  prefect  added  in  a  postscript  that 
a  woman — or  rather,  a  young  girl — 
charged  with  a  preparatory  message  to 
the  son  of  Napoleon,  preceded  the  gene- 
rals. She  was  to  instruct  him  tentatively 
in  regard  to  the  project  and  arrange  a 


32  L'Aiglon 

rendezvous  in  the  chateau,  where  they 
would  agree  upon  all  the  details  neces- 
sary to  bring  the  enterprise  to  a  success- 
ful conclusion  and  hand  over  to  the 
young  man  the  throne  of  his  father. 


THE   SPY 

THE  enigmatical  —  but  apparently 
composed — demeanor  of  the  new- 
comer caused  the  anger  of  the  chancel- 
lor to  cool  suddenly.  The  calmness  of 
the  young  man  surprised  him,  and,  ex- 
pecting important  revelations,  he  dropped 
in  his  chair,  rather  than  seated  himself. 

After  several  .minutes  spent  in  medi- 
tation he  raised  his  head  and  addressed 
himself  to  Otto: 

"  You  have  taken  your  time  to  comply 
with  my  order  to  come  to  me.  You  are 
perhaps  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  I  exact 
from  my  subordinates  of  every  grade  and 
variety  an  almost  military  promptitude. 
You  do  not  seem  to  have  acted  as  if  you 
knew  this  requirement  on  my  part.  I 


34  L'Aiglon 

trust  I  shall  not  find  it  necessary  to  make 
such  a  reproach  to  you  again." 

"  Your  Excellency,"  returned  the 
young  man,  "  will  not  only,  I  believe, 
excuse  the  deliberation  with  which  I  have 
executed  your  orders,  but  will  commend 
me  when  you  have  heard  my  report  of 
the  cause  of  my  negligence." 

"  You  have  important  information  to 
impart,  then  ?  "  said  the  prince,  leaning 
toward  his  companion.  "  But,  before 
all  things,  it  is  important  to  proceed  in 
order  and  methodically.  If  you  will  be 
so  good,  take  things  in  their  logical 
order ;  begin  at  the  beginning — ab  ovo,  as 
the  ancients  say — and  give  me  a  report 
of  the  manner  in  which  you  have  ac- 
complished the  mission  I  charged  you 
with,  for  it  is  of  the  greatest  importance 
to  me.  First,  when  did  you  return  ?  " 

"  Last  night.  I  arrived  toward  ten 
o'clock  at  the  chateau,  and  repaired  to 
the  apartments  reserved  for  me,  for  at 
that  late  hour,  covered  with  dust  as  I  was 


The  Spy  35 

after  my  long  journey  and  having  been 
two  days  on  the  road,  I  was  not  very 
presentable.  You  know,  Monseigneur, 
that  etiquette  is  of  such  sovereign  im- 
portance here  that  it  would  have  been 
considered  a  crime  for  me  to  present  my- 
self in  such  a  state  before  your  Excel- 
lency. This  morning,  however,  I  was  up 
at  an  early  hour,  waiting  to  be  summoned, 
when  an  unexpected  circumstance  (the 
meeting  with  a  person  whose  presence 
here  I  was  far  from  suspecting)  resulted 
in — but  I  am  wandering  from  the  matter 
in  hand." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  chancellor ; 
"  collect  your  thoughts  and  relate  mat- 
ters in  their  proper  sequence.  What  I 
want,  first,  is  a  complete  report  of  your 
trip  to  Paris  and  the  news  that  you  ac- 
quired there.  I  want  to  know  every- 
thing— good  and  bad.  You  are  to  con- 
ceal nothing.  Go  on  with  your  story. 
What  did  you  learn  there  ?  " 

"  Surprising  things,  as  you  will  re- 


36  L'Aiglon 

mark  when  you  have  heard  my  story. 
I  reached  there  towards  noon  last  Mon- 
day, and  immediately  reported  to  our 
ambassador.  He  was  at  home,  fortu- 
nately. I  found  him  in  a  disquieted  frame 
of  mind  and  much  preoccupied.  He 
quickly,  however,  made  me  au  courant 
with  the  news  of  the  day,  repeated  to  me 
all  the  rumors  that  were  flying  about, 
and  told  me  of  the  projected  plot.  He 
apprised  me  of -the  names  of  the  parties 
implicated,  and  said  that  he  had  put  on 
the  case  all  the  police  that  he  could  get 
hold  of;  but  that  the  conspirators  had 
acted  with  so  much  prudence  that  they 
had  eluded  all  his  efforts  and  completely 
baffled  his  sleuths,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
that  chance — the  Providence  of  the  po- 
lice— had  come  to  his  assistance,  he 
feared  that  he  could  have  done  nothing 
to  head  off  the  uprising,  and  would  have 
been  caught  unawares  and  powerless  to 
resist. 

"  After  I  had  tried  to  console  him  in 


The  Spy  37 

a  perfunctory  way,  I  left  him,  resolving 
that  I  would  go  to  work  on  my  own  hook 
and  trust  to  my  lucky  star;  and  the  ex- 
perience I  had  some  few  hours  afterwards 
showed  me  that  I  was  right  to  take  that 
course  instead  of  yielding  to  despair. 

"  Your  Excellency  is  sufficiently  ac- 
quainted with  the  moral  topography  of 
Paris  to  know  that  the  Palais  Royal  is 
the  heart  of  the  city.  In  the  evening  it 
is  fast  and  loud,  being  thronged  by  a 
noisy,  mixed  crowd.  It  is  the  rendez- 
vous of  people  from  every  quarter  of  the 
globe — a  place  where  a  person  fond  of 
orgies  can  drink  his  full  of  dissipation; 
where  the  pearl  powder  on  the  fairy's 
arm  is  brushed  off  by  the  aristocratic 
frock  coat  of  princes,  dukes,  and  mar- 
quises engaged  in  having  a  good  time  in 
the  hurly-burly  of  debauch. 

"  In  the  afternoon  the  character  of  the 
place  is,  of  course,  entirely  changed.  The 
shops  are  closed,  the  fairies  are  sleeping, 
and  all  around  the  parterres  children 


38  L'Aiglon 

romp  and  play,  and  their  jolly  laughter 
gives  a  note  of  purity  to  the  immense 
place  that  in  the  evening  will  again  be 
a  den  of  assignation. 

"  I  had  walked  and  walked  and  pon- 
dered deeply  as  to  what  I  might  better 
do,  when  suddenly,  right  at  my  elbow, 
I  saw  passing  me  Bertrand  and  Mon- 
tholon,  dressed  in  travelling  costume. 
Hanging  on  Montholon's  arm  was  a 
young  girl,  hardly  twenty  years  of  age, 
a  brunette;  and  pretty  enough  to  drive 
you  crazy.  Behind  the  group — at  a  dis- 
tance of  twenty  paces — came  a  Savoyard, 
carrying  a  hand-bag. 

"  Here  was  a  ray  of  light  for  me. 
Chance,  of  which  the  Austrian  ambas- 
sador had  spoken,  was  smiling  on  me. 
I  held  in  my  hand  one  of  the  threads  of 
the  complicated  web  which  was  puzzling 
so  many  persons. 

"  At  the  Cour  des  Fontaines  the  two 
generals,  their  pretty  companion,  and  the 
Savoyard — whom  I  followed  at  a  distance 


The  Spy  39 

as  unobtrusively  as  possible — turned 
off  into  the  rue  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires 
and  entered  the  Cour  des  Messageries, 
where,  after  waiting  a  few  minutes  at  the 
carriage  office,  they  went  toward  the 
Strasbourg  diligence,  which  was  about 
starting,  and  in  which  three  coupe  places 
had  been  reserved  for  them  in  advance. 
"  Provided  as  I  was  with  a  diplomatic 
passport  and  plenty  of  money,  it  was 
easy  for  me  to  get  aboard  at  the  same 
time  they  did;  but  fearing  to  be  recog- 
nized, I  contented  myself  in  the  rotonde, 
and  I  was  soon  after  bowling  along  to- 
ward Strasbourg,  where  in  due  time  I 
arrived,  regularly  done  up  but  triumph- 
ant. During  the  long  journey  I  had  had 
time  to  reflect,  and,  reasoning  from  in- 
duction, I  had  been  able  to  figure  out 
exactly  their  projects  and  plan  of  cam- 
paign. I  was  materially  assisted  in  this 
by  overhearing  through  the  partition 
scraps  of  conversation  from  time  to  time. 
Judging  from  the  frequent  fresh  and 


40  L'Aiglon 

hearty  laughter  of  the  young  girl,  the 
party  were  far  from  suspecting  the  ter- 
ribly dangerous  compagnon  de  voyage  that 
fortune  had  thrown  in  their  way. 

"  But  there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the 
cup  and  the  lip,  and  the  Tarpeian  Rock 
is  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the 
Capitol. 

"  At  Strasbourg  I  suffered  a  check, 
which  would  have  been  my  ruin  had  not 
chance — the  chance  that  I  shall  always 
bless  and  invoke — repaired  the  fault  I 
was  guilty  of. 

"  Your  Excellency  will  pardon  me  if 
my  story  is  a  long  one ;  but,  without  wish- 
ing to  excuse  myself  entirely,  I  am  quite 
willing  to  submit  to  your  judgment  both 
sides  of  the  question.  I  will  proceed 
with  my  narrative. 

"  I  put  up  at  the  same  hotel  as  my 
friends,  the  conspirators,  whom  I  at- 
tended as  faithfully  as  if  I  were  their 
shadow.  After  my  long  vigil,  so  ex- 
hausted that  I  could  hardly  stand,  I  was 


The  Spy  41 

unfortunate  enough  to  sleep  an  hour 
too  long;  and  in  the  morning,  when  I 
sprang  out  of  bed,  fresh  and  fit  for  any- 
thing, and  had  dressed  and  descended  to 
the  salle,  my  fellow-travellers  were  no 
longer  there.  They  had  disappeared — 
winged  their  flight  elsewhere.  In  the 
court  a  stable-boy  was  washing  a  carriage. 
It  was  the  vehicle  which  had  carried  them 
to  Kiel — they  had  crossed  the  Rhine. 

"  I  sprang  on  a  horse  and  covered  the 
route  they  had  taken  as  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible, but  saw  no  trace  of  them.  I  arrived 
here  with  death  in  my  heart.  This  morn- 
ing I  went  to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air 
in  the  garden,  and  the  first  person  I 
saw  was  my  fair  travelling  companion, 
emerging  leisurely  from  a  clump  of  trees 
in  the  park.  She  was  not  alone;  the 
Duke  of  Reichstadt  was  with  her.  They 
passed  close  to  where  I  was  hidden,  and 
I  heard  my  lady  say  in  a  low  voice :  '  At 
Camaldules,  the  5th  of  May,  at  mid- 
night.' " 


42  L'Aiglon 

Metternich  rose ;  the  audience  was 
over,  but  before  dismissing  the  count  he 
said  to  him  harshly: 

"  Chance  has  played,  as  you  say,  a 
large  part  in  this  affair.  You  will  soon 
have  to  come  to  me  again  for  further 
instructions.  Employ  your  spare  mo- 
ments in  sauntering  around  and  keeping 
your  eyes  open.  Gain  the  duke's  friend- 
ship and  confidence.  He  is  innocent  and 
good-hearted.  Your  task  in  that  respect 
is  easy,  and  it  is  necessary  for  the  success 
of  my  plans  to  perform  it  well.  He  is 
not  acquainted  with  you,  but  I  will  at- 
tend to  the  matter  of  an  introduction. 
Bonjour;  keep  your  wits  about  you. 
The  Tarpeian  Rock  that  you  were  talking 
about  just  now  is  called  here  the  Spiel- 
berg. People  who  go  there  don't  come 
back.  Bonjour;  leave  me ;  I  desire  to  be 
alone." 


CHAPTER   VIII 

IN  THE  GROVE 

THE  spy  told  the  strict  truth  when  he 
reported  to  Prince  Metternich  that 
he  had  surprised  Reichstadt  and  Colette 
at  their  stolen  interview ;  and  his  espion- 
age was  destined  to  give  an  unlucky  turn 
to  events. 

After  his  meeting  with  Colette,  the  son 
of  Napoleon  began  to  experience  the  first 
symptoms  of  that  delightful  malady 
known  as  love.  Deprived  in  his  infancy 
of  a  mother's  tenderness,  and  now  sur- 
rounded by  courtiers  indifferent,  if  not 
actually  hostile  to  him,  his  mind  was  well 
prepared  for  the  germination  of  vague 
desires  and  thoughts  that  he  had  been 
hitherto  unacquainted  with. 

Although  he  was  resolved  not  to  yield 


44  L'Aiglon 

to  unworthy  temptations,  the  sight  of  the 
beautiful,  modest  girl,  and  the  boundless 
devotion  and  affection  which  she  be- 
stowed on  the  old  servitor,  had  kindled 
in  the  young  man's  soul  a  spark  of  love, 
which  increased  in  intensity  day  by  day. 

Ever  since  that  night  when,  on  his 
knees,  he  had  sworn  to  claim,  sword  in 
hand,  that  heritage  of  glory  bequeathed 
to  him  by  his  father,  a  complete  transfor- 
mation had  taken  place  in  his  character. 
The  timid,  irresolute  youth  had  given 
place  to  a  young  man  with  a  firm,  decided 
character.  With  a  judgment  that  a  man 
of  mature  age  might  well  envy,  he  had 
weighed  the  chances  of  success  in  the 
adventure  he  was  about  to  undertake, 
and  then,  with  undaunted  soul,  had  made 
his  decision,  and  resolved  to  bear  the 
consequences,  whatever  they  were. 

It  was  in  this  mood,  after  a  sleepless 
night,  that  the  young  man  entered  the 
park  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  of  a  spring 
morning.  Colette,  who  had  just  re- 


In  the  Grove  45 

turned  from  a  hasty  visit  to  Vienna,  upon 
discovering  Reichstadt  in  the  park  has- 
tily made  her  way  toward  a  secluded 
grove  containing  a  marble  seat,  where 
she  knew  he  spent  many  hours  in  reading 
and  dreaming.  The  rapidity  of  her  walk, 
and  the  emotion  she  experienced  at  her 
daring  action,  caused  her  heart  to  beat 
painfully.  It  was,  to  say  the  least,  a 
rash  act  for  her  to  meet  the  duke  in  such 
a  lonely  spot ;  but  the  soldier's  daughter, 
blindly  devoted  to  the  cause  she  served, 
declined  to  be  influenced  by  such  petty 
considerations.  A  crisis  was  at  hand. 
Two  days  before  a  beggar  stationed  at 
the  park  gate,  in  thanking  her  for  a  florin 
dropped  into  his  hat,  had  made  her  a 
mysterious  sign,  for  which  she  was  doubt- 
less prepared,  as,  after  a  brief  conference 
with  Silvere,  she  set  out  for  Vienna. 

There,  in  an  interview  with  the  two 
generals,  her  travelling  companions,  it 
was  decided  that  she  should  induce  the 
duke  to  consent  to  meet  the  conspirators 


46  L'Aiglon 

on  the  5th  of  May  at  midnight  in  a  mon- 
astery at  Camaldules,  a  little  off  the  road 
to  Wagram.  The  place  selected  for  the 
meeting  was  particularly  fitted  for  the 
purpose,  as  the  locality  had  been  rav- 
aged by  the  recent  wars,  and  was  a  vast 
solitude  where  all  the  preparations  for  a 
coup  could  be  made  without  attracting 
attention. 

When  the  duke,  happening  to  look  up, 
saw  Colette  coming  toward  him  his  sur- 
prise was  so  great  that  he  dropped  the 
book  which  he  had  been  reading.  He 
quickly,  however,  recovered  his  self-pos- 
session, and  advancing  to  meet  the  young 
girl,  took  her  hand  in  a  friendly  manner, 
and  begged  her  to  rest  on  the  marble 
seat. 

"  Tell  me,  my  dear  compatriot,"  he  ex- 
claimed, gayly,  "  to  what  happy  circum- 
stance I  must  attribute  such  an  early 
^meeting  as  this.  I  trust  that  nothing  has 
gone  amiss  with  you.  Is  Silvere  ill?  I 
saw  him  yesterday  walking  in  his  garden. 


In  the  Grove  47 

But  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Your 
hand  trembles.  Do  I  frighten  you? 
Why  are  you  so  excited  ?  Calm  yourself 
and  speak  to  me." 

"  Monseigneur,"  returned  Colette, 
"  when  you  have  heard  me  you  will  be 
as  excited  as  I  am." 

"  Indeed!  Is  it  so  important?  Have 
you  received  news  from  France?  Has 
anything  unexpected  happened  to  upset 
the  plans  which  you  have  formed?  Has 
it  anything  to  do  with  leaving  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Colette,  rising ;  "  it 
has  something  to  do  with  leaving  here; 
but  it  concerns  your  departure — not 
mine." 

"  My  departure,"  said  the  duke. 
"  Come,  explain  yourself.  When  I  saw 
you  trembling  and  distracted  I  divined 
that  something  important  was  at  stake, 
for  your  coming  out  and  meeting  me  at 
this  hour  of  the  day  is  most  unusual. 
You  are  risking  at  this  moment  the  dear- 
est possession  a  young  girl  has — her 


48  L'Aiglon 

reputation — and  you  are  risking  it  in 
order  to  assist  and  advise  a  person  whom 
you  hardly  know  and  who  is  nothing  to 
you.  How  good  you  are,  and  how  I 
thank  you  for  this  proof  of  affection  you 
have  given  me !  It  is  a  thing  I  am  little  * 
accustomed  to." 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  Colette,  "  the 
daughter  of  a  soldier  goes  straight  ahead 
when  duty  calls,  without  expostulation 
and  without  fear.  When  she  sets  forth 
she  regards  nothing  but  the  end,  and 
when  that  end  is  a  worthy  one  she  pur- 
sues her  course  proudly  and  recks  not 
of  cowards  and  fools.  She  knows  how 
to  take  care  of  herself,  for  her  honor  is 
her  sole  capital ;  and  child  of  the  flag  as 
she  is,  and  brought  up  under  its  folds, 
she  has  constantly  in  mind  the  preserva- 
tion of  her  modesty." 

Filled  with  admiration  and  respect,  the 
duke  stood  mute  before  the  lovely  maid- 
en— the  living  incarnation  of  the  lost 
cause.  Then,  raising  his  head,  he  said: 


In  the  Grove  49 

"And  this  departure,  Colette;  you 
have  forgotten  that." 

"  No,  Monseigneur,"  she  replied ;  "  but 
before  coming  to  that  I  wish  to  fire  your 
soul  with  the  same  inspiration  that  fills 
my  own.  When  I  was  still  a  child,  my 
mother,  in  the  winter  evenings  by  the 
light  of  a  lamp,  has  often  read  to  me  the 
history  of  Joan  of  Arc,  who  was  sent  by 
heaven  to  put  the  king  back  on  his  throne 
and  drive  the  English  into  the  sea.  Mon 
Dieu!  how  I  wished  then  I  had  been  that 
heroine;  that  I  could  have  borne  the 
sword  aloft  and  attacked  and  cleft  in 
twain  the  enemies  of  France,  and  then, 
at  the  hour  of  triumph,  have  taken  my 
place  at  the  side  of  the  king ! 

"  And  God  has  heard  my  prayer,  for, 
if  you  desire  it,  in  two  days  from  now  we 
will  set  out.  Two  generals  of  the  Em- 
pire, faithful  to  the  recollection  of  your 
father,  await  us  not  far  distant.  I  wish 
to  be  the  first  to  salute  the  Emperor," 
and,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word, 

4 


50  L'Aiglon 

Colette  fell  on  her  knees,  and  possessing 
herself  of  the  hand  of  the  duke,  raised  it 
respectfully  to  her  lips. 

Reichstadt  hastily  raised  her  to  her 
feet ;  then,  exhausted  by  the  emotions  she 
had  awakened,  and  thinking  it  too  late 
to  remain  longer  in  the  grove,  he  took 
his  leave — not,  however,  until  he  had 
asked  her  the  hour  and  place  for  the 
meeting. 

It  was  then  that  the  spy,  prowling  in 
the  garden,  heard  the  answer: 

"  The  5th  of  May,  at  Camaldules." 


CHAPTER   IX 

AT   THE   BALL 

*  I  ""HE  immense  windows  of  the  Cha- 
1  teau  de  Schonbrunn  are  resplen- 
dent with  light.  The  walls  of  the  vast 
building  and  the  terraces  surrounding  it 
are  bathed  in  the  pale  light  of  a  spring 
evening.  The  enchanting  notes  of  a 
grand  orchestra  discoursing  redowas  and 
polonaises  drift  out  upon  the  night  air. 

On  the  main  floor,  standing  by  his 
grandfather,  the  Emperor  Francis  I.,  is 
the  Duke  of  Reichstadt.  He  is  much 
sought  after,  and  does  the  honors  of  the 
ball  and  receives  the  guests  as  they 
arrive. 

Under  the  chandeliers  gay  couples  go 
through  the  complicated  figures  of  the 
dance ;  and  uniforms  of  every  shade,  cov- 


52  L'Aiglon 

ered  with  gold  and  silver  embroidery, 
form  a  fitting  background  to  the  white 
shoulders  of  the  ladies  and  their  wealth 
of  diamonds. 

Near  a  French  window,  apart  from  the 
crowd,  the  Prince  de  Metternich  and 
Otto  de  Falkenstein,  his  tool,  are  con- 
versing in  a  low  tone ;  and  when,  at  mid- 
night, the  great  clock  of  the  chateau 
sounds  the  hour  for  supper,  and  the  dan- 
cers of  both  sexes,  preceded  by  the  Em- 
peror with  an  archduchess  on  his  arm, 
make  their  way  slowly  toward  the  im- 
mense banquet  hall,  the  two  men  secretly 
slip  out  and  proceed  toward  the  right 
wing  of  the  palace. 

It  is  there,  at  the  top,  under  the  plat- 
form of  La  Gloriette,  that  the  duke's 
apartments  are  located. 

The  galleries  and  staircases  are  de- 
serted and  everything  seems  to  favor  the 
nocturnal  expedition  of  this  prince  of  the 
Austro-Hungarian  empire  who,  blinded 
by  his  hate  and  resentment,  has  de- 


At  the  Ball  53 

scended  so  low  that  he  is  attempting  at 
night,  like  a  burglar,  to  pick  a  lock  and 
pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  grandson  of 
the  Emperor,  his  master. 

Everything  is  quiet.  Through  the 
open  windows  comes  the  sound  of  the 
violins  tuning  up.  The  supper  is  nearly 
over,  and  the  dancing  will  commence 
again  and  continue  until  daybreak. 

The  light  flashes  on  a  steel  tool  of  some 
kind  in  the  hands  of  the  spy.  Under  his 
touch — which  seems  to  be  not  unfamiliar 
with  such  work — the  lock  quickly  gives 
way,  and  the  contents  of  the  chamber  are 
visible  by  the  pale  light  of  a  veillcuse 
which  burns  at  the  head  of  the  bed. 

Metternich,  at  this  juncture,  feels  his 
strength  abandoning  him,  and  now  that 
he  has  arrived  at  the  consummation  of 
his  plans  and  has  only  to  reach  out  his 
hand  to  get  possession  of  the  accursed 
letter  which  has  caused  him  so  much 
trouble,  he  trembles  and  hesitates. 

He  sinks  into  an  arm-chair.     But  sud- 


54  L'Aiglon 

denly  he  rises  and  starts  back  as  if  a  ser- 
pent were  at  his  feet.  On  the  desk,  not 
two  steps  distant  from  him,  is  a  bronze 
mask  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  held  in 
the  talons  of  an  enormous  eagle,  which 
apparently  protects  and  defends  it. 

It  is  the  one  souvenir  that  the  child 
has  retained  of  his  father.  A  pious  ser- 
vitor preserved  the  sacred  image  from 
oblivion.  More  fortunate  than  his  mas- 
ter, he  returned  to  France,  and  imme- 
diately sought  out  a  great  artist,  and, 
handing  over  to  him  the  plaster  cast, 
which  he  had  carefully  retained,  a  chef- 
d'oeuvre  came  forth,  after  which  the 
mould  was  immediately  demolished. 
This  representation  of  his  father  the 
young  man  kept  always  by  him,  and 
daily  and  hourly  it  comforted  him  by 
speaking  of  the  dead. 

At  the  sight  of  the  bust,  the  remorse 
for  the  cowardly  and  dishonorable  action 
upon  which  he  was  engaged  in  the  com- 
pany of  a  vile  spy  disappeared  from  that 


At  the  Ball  55 

soul  where  there  was  no  longer  any  room 
for  aught  but  hate  and  rage. 

He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height ; 
the  burden  of  his  years  slipped  from  his 
shoulders,  and,  confronting  the  marvel- 
lous bronze  upon  whic'h  death  had  sealed 
the  solemn  majesty  of  the  Beyond,  he 
exclaimed : 

"  So,  then,  even  in  this  palace  your 
detested  effigy  comes  to  trouble  me !  Is 
your  grave  so  insecurely  closed  that  your 
accursed  face  comes  from  the  abyss  of 
space  to  awaken  bitter  recollections  in 
my  soul  ?  Your  abhorred  image  still  in- 
spires the  soul  of  your  son.  You  made 
your  calculations  without  remembering 
me.  I  am  here  still,  and  I  am  watch- 
ing." 

Then,  turning  away  from  the  rigid 
mask  and  repressing  'his  burst  of  rage 
on  account  of  the  presence  of  his  accom- 
plice, he  said  to  Otto,  who  was  listening 
to  him  much  troubled : 

"  What  we  are  looking  for  ought  not 


56  L'Aiglon 

to  be  far  from  here.  Lift  up  the  bronze 
and  look  under  it." 

Otto  did  as  he  was  told ;  and  the  bronze 
mask  having  been  lightly  raised  up, 
there  on  the  table-cover  appeared  a  paper 
sealed  with  the  Imperial  arms. 

Metternich  seized  it  and  proceeded 
hurriedly  to  master  its  contents. 

The  further  he  advanced  in  his  reading 
the  deeper  became  his  frown. 

When  he  had  finally  finished  its  peru- 
sal, he  turned  to  Otto  and  said : 

"  Your  reports  and  the  inferences  that 
I  have  drawn  from  them  are  now  fully 
confirmed.  We  are  confronted  by  a  plot 
of  which  all  the  tangled  threads  are  in 
my  hands.  Have  you  not  told  me  of  a 
rendezvous  that  the  adopted  daughter  of 
this  soldier-gardener  has  arranged  for 
the  duke  in  the  ruined  convent  off  the 
road  to  Wagram,  a  few  leagues  from 
here?  I  liave  forgotten  the  date;  you 
will  have  to  jog  my  memory." 

"That's  easy  enough,  Monseigneur," 


At  the  Ball  57 

returned  Otto ;  "  the  rendezvous  is  for 
to-morrow,  the  5th  of  May,  at  midnight, 
and  I  have  an  excellent  reason  for  not  for- 
getting the  date.  That  date  was  chosen 

for  a  reason ;  it  is  the  day " 

"Don't  finish,"  said  Metternich;  "I 
know.  It  is  the  anniversary  of  the  Em- 
peror's death.  Well,  if  that  date  pleases 
them  it  suits  me  perfectly.  I  will  make 
such  preparations  that  they  will  have 
good  cause  to  remember  the  5th  of  May. 
But  time  is  passing.  Let  us  get  out  of 
here  before  any  one  sees  us." 

When  the  two  men  had  left  the  room, 
and  their  retreating  footsteps  could  be 
heard  no  longer,  a  frightened  face 
emerged  from  a  corner  of  the  apartment 
covered  by  a  thick  drapery,  and  Colette 
stood  revealed  by  the  rays  of  the  rising 
sun. 


CHAPTER   X 

COLETTE 

A  FEW  words  will  be  necessary  to  ex- 
plain the  presence  of  the  young 
girl  in  the  duke's  apartments  at  such  an 
hour.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  sol- 
dier, and  'had  nothing  of  the  timidity 
of  the  young  girls  of  the  present  day. 
Again,  the  short  time  remaining  before 
the  blow  was  to  be  struck  did  not  permit 
her  to  stand  upon  too  much  ceremony ; 
the  preparations  for  taking  away  the  duke 
were  all  made ;  the  day  of  departure  was 
fixed,  and  it  was  no  longer  possible  to 
take  a  backward  step. 

Reichstadt,  carried  away  by  the  enthu- 
siasm of  Colette,  had  no  objection  to 
carrying  out  his  role ;  but,  too  much  ex- 
cited to  remain  longer  in  the  park,  he  had 


Colette  59 

left  the  young  girl  without  giving  her  a 
chance  to  explain  the  details  of  the  plan 
in  which  he  was  to  take  part. 

It  was  to  repair  this  omission  that  Co- 
lette, provided  with  instructions  for  the 
duke,  introduced  herself  into  his  apart- 
ments, and  was  thus  unwittingly  present 
and  saw  the  dishonorable  act  of  Metter- 
nich  and  his  accomplice. 

When  she  heard  the  last  part  of  the 
conversation  between  the  two,  and  com- 
prehended that  she  and  her  friends  were 
at  the  mercy  of  the  spy,  and  that  every- 
thing would  have  to  be  begun  over  again, 
a  cold  perspiration  trickled  down  her 
forehead  and  she  had  to  seize  hold  of 
the  hangings  behind  her  to  keep  from 
falling. 

But  how  had  she  been  able  to  get  ac- 
cess to  the  room  when  the  door  was  so 
securely  locked  that  Metternich  liad  to 
force  it  open?  This  can  be  easily  ex- 
plained. 

When  the  Emperor — the  conqueror  of 


60  L'Aiglon 

the  Austrians — fixed  his  residence  at 
Schonbrunn  in  the  short  interval  be- 
tween two  victories,  he  occupied  the  same 
apartment  which,  some  years  later,  was 
to  be  the  study  of  his  proscribed  son.  As 
his  staff  was  coming  constantly  to  his 
rooms,  the  Emperor,  who  was  fond  of  be- 
ing alone,  was  accustomed  to  put  away 
etiquette  and  descend  'to  the  park  to  in- 
hale the  night  air  and  banish  from  his 
mind  for  a  brief  season  the  cares  of  power. 
He  soon  found  it  convenient  for  his  pur- 
poses to  have  a  secret  entrance  to  his 
apartment.  Silvere,  whom  the  Emperor 
had  attached  to  his  person  and  from 
whom  he  concealed  nothing,  was  the  only 
one  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  secret 
passage.  When,  therefore,  Colette,  after 
her  return  to  the  cottage  at  the  conclusion 
of  her  conversation  with  Reichstadt,  had 
told  her  adopted  father  that  she  had  not 
thoroughly  finished  her  mission,  Silvere 
did  not  hesitate  to  confide  to  her  the 
secret  of  the  'hidden  passageway,  and  the 


Colette  6 1 

girl  took  advantage  of  the  night  of  the 
ball  to  place  the  letter  of  the  confederates 
where  the  young  man  could  see  it  on  his 
return.  The  presence  of  Metternich  and 
his  ally  changed  her  plans.  Calm  and 
resolute,  and  taking  counsel  of  no  one 
but  herself,  she  replaced  in  her  bosom 
the  letter  she  had  taken  out;  then,  ap- 
proaching the  table  and  taking  up  a  pen 
lying  on  a  silver  writing-desk,  she  wrote 
as  follows,  with  a  feverish  hand,  on  a  slip 
of  paper: 

"  MONSEIGNEUR  : 

"  Be  there  to-morrow,  the  5th  of  May,  at  10 
o'clock  instead  of  at  midnight. 

"  At  the  ruined  monastery  of  Camaldules. 

"Your  highness  must  be  attended  by  some 
one  ;  let  it  be  the  Count  of  Falkenstein. 

"COLETTE." 

Then  she  tilted  up  the  bronze  cast, 
placed  her  note  where  it  might  be  seen, 
and,  conjecturing  by  the  noise  of  carriage 
wheels  that  the  guests  were  leaving  and 


62  L'Aiglon 

the  duke  would  soon  return,  she  raised 
up  the  hangings  and  departed,  saying 
to  herself :  "  I  shall  have  two  hours  to 
spare.  Two  hours !  God  is  just." 


CHAPTER   XI 

CAMALDULES 

AT  a  league's  distance  from  Schon- 
brunn,  in  a  well-wooded  valley 
separated  from  the  road  leading  to  Wag- 
ram  by  hills  of  considerable  height,  is 
located  the  monastery  of  Camaldules. 
The  building  was  erected  in  the  early 
part  of  the  twelfth  century  under  the 
auspices  of  St.  Romualdo,  and  had  beheld 
many  revolutions  and  wars.  The  fact 
that  it  was  at  some  distance  from  the 
highway  had  been  its  salvation — the 
hordes  of  troops  which  had,  in  the  course 
of  half-a-dozen  centuries,  succeeded  each 
other  passed  close  by  its  walls  without 
being  aware  of  its  existence. 

Thus  protected  by  nature,  the  monas- 
tery was  the  scene  of  the  usual  monkish 


64  L'Aiglon 

activity  until  the  time  of  the  Imperial 
wars,  when,  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of 
labor,  the  monks  were  obliged  to  leave 
the  locality. 

The  building  so  abandoned  gradually 
went  to  ruin  in  the  course  of  time;  the 
bells  no  longer  rang  out,  the  organ  was 
mute,  and  tufts  of  moss  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  the  neglected  cells. 

But  the  ruin  was  not  entirely  deserted. 

One  of  those  pious  cenobites — almost 
a  centenarian — following  the  example  of 
his  order,  which  had  numerous  hermits 
scattered  about  all  over  Christendom,  be- 
sought permission  of  his  superiors  to 
spend  the  few  remaining  years  of  his  life 
in  the  cloister  where  he  had  passed  the 
most  of  his  existence.  He  represented  to 
them  that  that  solitary  valley  was  the  only 
world  he  knew,  and  that  he  wished  to  pass 
his  remaining  days  in  contemplation  and 
prayer. 

His  request  was  granted. 

The  pious  creature  had  always  been  a 


Camaldules  65 

student  of  simples,  and  became  quite  pro- 
ficient in  the  art  of  curing  by  vegetable 
remedies.  So  true  was  this  that  he  soon 
had  a  numerous  clientele  among  the  poor 
and  ailing. 

Silvere,  who  was  of  an  age  when  he 
began  to  experience  severe  twinges  as 
the  result  of  the  many  hard  knocks  he 
had  received  in  his  campaigns,  had  heard 
some  one  speak  of  the  monk-physician, 
and  made  him  a.  visit  and  received  much 
benefit  from  the  treatment. 

Since  then  the  monk  and  the  soldier 
saw  each  other  almost  every  day.  Al- 
though devoted  to  pursuits  so  widely  dif- 
fering from  each  other,  there  grew  up 
between  the  two  lonely  old  men  a  most 
sincere  friendship.  On  pleasant  days  ihe 
old  soldier,  seated  on  the  shaft  of  a  broken 
column,  might  be  heard  declaiming 
whole  epics  bearing  upon  his  vast  ex- 
perience at  the  forefront  of  battle;  the 
monk,  seated  at  his  side,  would  some- 
times take  the  floor  and  talk  to  his  friend 


66  L'Aiglon 

of  God  and  the  saints.  Each  had  his 
hobby. 

When  night  came  they  bade  each  other 
good-'by ;  the  soldier  returned  to  the  cha- 
teau and  the  hermit  retired  within  and 
stretched  his  lean  figure  on  a  mat  made 
of  rushes,  which,  with  a  rough  bench, 
comprised  the  furniture  of  his  narrow 
cell. 

As  a  result  of  these  many  visits,  Sil- 
vere  became  well  acquainted  with  the  in- 
terior of  the  building — even  with  its  most 
secret  recesses. 

One  Christmas  Eve,  the  snow,  which 
had  been  falling  for  several  days,  had 
made  the  roads  almost  impassable,  and 
the  hermit  insisted  that  his  friend  should 
pass  the  night  in  the  monastery.  Silvere 
allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  to  do  so, 
though  he  would  have  much  preferred  his 
own  bed  to  the  hard  couch  destined  for 
him.  He  retired  early  and  tried  his  best 
to  sleep.  The  pealing  of  the  bells  of 
Vienna  calling  the  faithful  to  midnight 


Camaldules  67 

mass  reached  him,  slightly  muffled  by 
the  hills  surrounding  the  valley.  Un- 
able to  sleep,  he  was  turning  and  twisting 
on  his  bed  when  the  door  of  his  cell 
opened,  and,  by  the  light  of  a  torch,  he 
perceived  the  monk  standing  in  the  door- 
way and  beckoning  to  him  to  follow. 
Silvere  arose  at  once,  and,  climbing  over 
the  rubbish  that  strewed  the  yard,  the  two 
men  entered  the  chapel. 

Arrived  there,  the  monk,  by  means  of 
a  crowbar  lying  under  the  steps  of  the 
altar,  forced  back  an  enormous  stone, 
which  worked  in  grooves  and  was  so 
nicely  fitted  to  them  that  a  child  could 
manage  it.  An  icy  breeze,  impregnated 
with  the  sickening  fumes  of  decaying 
matter,  assailed  their  nostrils,  and  they 
instinctively  recoiled. 

The  monk  was  the  first  to  recover  him- 
self. Followed  by  his  companion,  he  ad- 
vanced toward  the  opening.  By  means 
of  a  short,  shaky  ladder  both  descended 
to  a  subterranean  chapel,  the  walls  of 


68  L'Aiglon 

which  consisted  of  the  rarest  varieties  of 
marble,  Between  the  choir  and  the  apse 
was  an  altar  covered  with  the  vestments 
and  utensils  that  are  brought  into  requi- 
sition when  masses  for  the  dead  are  cele- 
brated. There  was  also  a  crucifix  covered 
with  crape,  a  number  of  tapers  of  yellow 
wax,  and  several  candlesticks.  On  the 
further  side  of  the  choir,  placed  on 
oaken  brackets,  their  faces  covered  by 
their  cowls,  lay  five  score  monks,  seem- 
ing to  await  the  signal  of  the  Abbe  to 
rise  and  sing  the  hours. 

Silvere  regarded  this  strange  scene 
with  astonishment;  but  the  odor  of  de- 
composing flesh  rendered  a  stay  of  any 
duration  in  the  chapel  dangerous  in  the 
highest  degree.  Even  the  monk  recog- 
nized this  when  'he  saw  that  the  light  of 
his  torch  had  assumed  a  pale,  sickly 
color.  Seizing  the  soldier  by  the  arm, 
he  dragged  him  with  little  ceremony 
to  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  both  re- 
mounted to  the  floor  above. 


Camaldules  69 

When  they  arrived  in  the  sacred  edi- 
fice overhead,  the  monk  moved  the  stone 
back  into  its  former  position  and  replaced 
the  crowbar  under  the  altar  steps.  Then, 
turning  to  Silvere,  and  breaking  the  si- 
lence which  he  had  maintained  till  then, 
he  said: 

"  Friend  and  brother,  when  I  urged 
your  remaining  with  me  this  night,  you 
probably  suspected  that  I  did  it  for  no 
frivolous  reason.  The  time  is  come  for 
me  to  explain  myself.  You  are  cour- 
ageous and  will  be  faithful  to  an  oath. 
Will  you,  by  the  crucifix  before  us,  prom- 
ise me  that  when  I  die  you  will  take 
me  in  your  arms  and  place  me  in  the 
empty  cell  on  the  right  of  the  choir?  I 
have  abided  here  all  these  years  solely 
that  I  might  be  placed  to  rest  there  when 
life  was  over.  I  am  waiting  to  hear 
your  answer." 

Silvere,  deeply  touched  by  the  trust 
that  the  hermit  had  placed  in  him,  and 
moved,  beside,  by  the  attachment  the  old 


70  L'Aiglon 

man  displayed  for  his  old  residence,  read- 
ily gave  his  promise;  and  when,  not  long 
after,  the  hermit  slept  his  last  sleep,  he 
was  placed  religiously  by  the  side  of  his 
former  comrades. 

This  digression  will  explain  why  Sil- 
vere  knew  the  monastery  so  well. 

We  shall  see  hereafter  what  part  the 
subterranean  chapel  played  in  the  drama 
that  was  taking  place. 


CHAPTER   XII 

A   LESSON 

THE  Prince  de  Metternich,  when  he 
had  brusquely  dismissed  the  spy, 
after  receiving  his  report,  proceeded  to 
block  out  the  best  course  of  action  to  pur- 
sue. He  arranged  that  the  spy  should 
be  presented  forthwith  to  the  Duke  de 
Reichstadt,  and  instructed  the  former  to 
endeavor  to  gain  the  duke's  good  graces, 
to  watch  all  his  actions,  and  to  be  espe- 
cially careful  to  give  warning  of  the  time 
when  the  conspiracy  would  come  to  a 
head. 

Otto  had  little  difficulty  in  carrying  out 
the  first  part  of  his  instructions.  The 
duke,  who  was  by  nature  very  approach- 
able, received  kindly  the  advances  of  the 


72  L'Aiglon 

spy,  and  soon  admitted  him  to  the  num- 
ber of  his  intimate  friends. 

The  psuedo  count,  however,  while 
serving  the  ends  of  his  despotic  master, 
had  other  projects  in  view.  The  beauty 
of  Colette  had  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  this  corrupt  creature,  and  he 
thought  that  through  his  intimacy  with 
the  duke  he  would  be  able  to  see  her  fre- 
quently and  put  into  execution  the  plan 
of  seduction  he  had  sketched  out. 

But  one  might  have  thought  that  Co- 
lette was  invisible.  She  was  always  either 
in  Silvere's  cottage  or  in  the  enclosed 
garden  where  the  old  soldier  tended  his 
roses. 

To  accost  her  when  she  was  walking 
in  the  garden  was  not  to  be  thought  of; 
the  presence  of  the  servants  rendered  such 
a  step  impracticable.  And  then  Silvere 
was  so  watchful!  He  never  left  his 
adopted  child  alone.  At  an  appeal  from 
her  he  would  quickly  have  hastened  to 
her  assistance.  But  suppose  he  should 


A  Lesson 


73 


see  an  opportunity  to  waylay  the  young 
girl,  how  should  he  explain  his  presence 
in  that  part  of  the  park  to  the  old  soldier, 
who  would  have  visited  with  prompt  jus- 
tice any  affront  ? 

Fate  came  to  his  assistance. 

One  evening  Colette,  wearying  of  her 
voluntary  seclusion,  resolved  to  take  a 
long  walk  in  the  park.  It  happened  to 
be  the,  evening  of  the  fete  described  in 
the  preceding  chapter. 

Not  knowing  what  the  morrow  had  in 
store  for  her,  she  wished  to  take  another 
look  at  the  little  grove  where  one  spring 
morning  she  had  offered  her  devotion  to 
the  exile  and  excited  his  admiration  to 
such  a  high  degree. 

Colette's  feeling,  however,  was  not 
only  devotion  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word.  A  sentiment  of  a  more  ten- 
der nature  had  taken  possession  of  her 
heart.  The  gentle  pity  that  every  woman 
feels  for  the  unfortunate  had  been  re- 
placed by  a  new  sensation,  painful  and 


74  L'Aiglon 

yet  pleasant.  She  had  experienced  a 
wound  which  brought  to  her  heart  for 
the  first  time  a  sentiment  of  joy  and  yet 
of  fear. 

Seated  on  the  marble  bench  the  young 
girl,  absorbed  in  her  reflections,  seemed 
completely  detached  from  the  affairs  of 
this  world — as  if  her  soul  had  taken  wing 
for  a  better  land  and  had  left  behind  all 
the  deceptions  and  miseries  of  earth. 

A  shadow,  which  intercepted  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  caused  her  to  raise 
her  head. 

In  front  of  her,  his  arms  folded  on  his 
breast,  stood  the  same  stranger  whom  she 
had  run  across  when  she  took  leave  of 
the  duke  the  day  she  told  him  of  the  place 
of  rendezvous.  She  recognized  in  him 
also  the  persistent  creature  who,  at  every 
hour  of  the  day  recently,  had  been  hang- 
ing around  Silvere's  cottage. 

At  the  same  time  something  impelled 
her  to  give  a  rapid  glance  into  the  past. 
Where  had  she  seen  this  mysterious  man 


A  Lesson  75 

before  ?  She  passed  rapidly  in  review  the 
events  of  the  last  few  months,  and  sud- 
denly hit  upon  the  answer  to  the  rid- 
dle. It  was  the  same  traveller  who,  in 
the  Cour  des  Messageries,  was  so  inquisi- 
tive about  her  companions  that  they  be- 
lieved themselves  watched,  and  thought 
it  best  to  leave  Strasbourg  at  the  earliest 
opportunity  and  cross  the  Rhine. 

These  diverse  recollections  caused  a 
feeling  of  the  most  absolute  repulsion  in 
the  young  girl's  soul  against  the  creature, 
and  her  features — ordinarily  so  gentle 
and  open — became  clouded.  In  a  word, 
her  whole  face  was  a  plain  indication  of 
the  storm  which  was  raging  in  her  heart. 

The  young  man  perceived  without  dif- 
ficulty that  he  was  meeting  with  no  very 
flattering  reception,  but  he  thought  a 
bold  stroke  might  turn  the  scales  in 
his  favor.  He  advanced,  therefore,  still 
closer,  and  said  in  a  lackadaisical  manner : 

"  It's  just  the  evening,  Mademoiselle, 
isn't  it,  to  be  alone  and  dream  of  love? 


76  L'Aiglon 

What  an  appropriate  place!  See  how 
the  trees  surround  and  protect  you  from 
the  gaze  of  curious  persons.  But,  with- 
out wishing  to  be  too  free,  may  I  sit  down 
by  you  a  moment — that  is,  unless  you  are 
expecting  some  one  ?  " 

Colette  with  an  effort  controlled  her- 
self, and,  looking  at  the  ruffian  haughtily, 
made  a  movement  to  rise  and  give  up 
her  place  to  him.  But  that  was  not 
what  the  intruder  wished,  and  he  said 
hastily : 

"  You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  are  you  ?  " 
Colette,  who  had  started  to  go,  stopped 
quickly.  She  remembered  how  a  few 
days  before  another  young  man  was  in 
the  same  place  standing  by  her  side,  and 
that  seeing  her  agitation  he  had  asked 
with  kindness — almost  with  tenderness — 
the  cause  of  her  trouble.  His  voice  was 
gentle  and  caressing.  The  emotion  of 
anger  that  she  was  experiencing  now  was 
genuine;  this  young  man  had -made  al- 
most the  same  remark,  but  what  a  dif- 


A  Lesson  77 

ference  there  was  in  the  way  of  ex- 
pressing it. 

The  crafty  wretch  sitting  before  her  on 
the  bench  with  his  mouth  screwed  up  and 
his  legs  crossed  deserved  a  lesson,  and 
she  was  the  woman  to  give  it  to  him. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  said ;  "  you  asked 
me  if  I  am  afraid  of  you.  Fear  is  a  feel- 
ing I  am  not  acquainted  with,  for,  until 
this  moment,  no  person — male  or  female 
— has  insulted  me.  Hereafter  I  shall 
know  what  fear  is.  I  have  suffered  an 
affront,  and  one  single  sentiment  fills  my 
heart — a  profound  contempt.  But  be- 
fore leaving  this  grove,  which,  according 
to  you,  is  such  a  favorable  place  to  dream 
of  love,  I  would  like  to  ask  you  who  you 
are  and  by  what  right  you  are  always 
dogging  my  steps.  I  am  not  aware  that 
I  have  done  anything  to  encourage  your 
amorous  pursuit.  You  will  do  well  not 
to  repeat  the  offence  in  the  future. 

"  Now,  'as  to  who  you  are.  You  carry 
a  sword.  It  sparkles  in  the  sun — an  em- 


78    '  L'Aiglon 

blem  of  honor.  You  are  a  gentleman, 
then.  But  your  conduct  prompts  me  to 
doubt  it.  What  are  you,  then?  Are  you, 
perchance,  a  spy?  Monsieur,  your  very 
humble  servant." 

And,  disdainful  and  haughty,  she 
passed  in  front  of  his  Excellency  the 
Count  Otto  de  Falkenstein,  and  departed 
from  the  grove. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

A   LAST  INTERVIEW 

AT  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the 
5th  of  May  Metternich  summoned 
the  Count  Otto  to  his  cabinet  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  the  final  arrangements 
to  thwart  the  plot,  which  was  to  reach  its 
culmination  that  evening. 

The  spy  responded  promptly  to  the 
command,  and,  for  the  first  time,  the 
diplomat  dispensed  with  some  of  the 
haughty  disdain  with  which  he  had 
hitherto  treated  his  subordinate. 

"  Eh  bien! "  he  said,  rubbing  his 
hands ;  "  to-night  is  the  night  we  are  to 
put  an  end  forever  to  the  hopes  of  these 
idiots  who  want  to  give  us  a  second  edi- 
tion of  the  Empire — a  revised  and  cor- 
rected edition.  Well,  it  is  about  time; 


8o  L'Aiglon 

for  I  see  that  the  wings  of  that  Eaglet 
which  Europe  put  under  my  care  are  be- 
ginning to  grow  a  little  too  rapidly. 

"  Apropos  of  that,  I  sent  for  you  so 
we  may  know  exactly  where  we  are.  Do 
you  know  anything  new  ?  " 

"  Monseigneur,"  replied  Otto,  "  I  be- 
lieve I  have  been  successful  beyond  your 
most  sanguine  hopes,  and  I  bring  you 
some  news  which  will  show  that  I  have 
followed  your  instructions  to  the  letter. 
After  having  been  presented  to  the  Duke 
of  Reichstadt,  through  the  kind  offices  of 
your  Excellency,  I  succeeded  in  gaining 
his  confidence  and  winning  his  friend- 
ship. I  acquitted  myself  so  well  that  this 
morning  he  sent  for  me  to  come  to  his 
rooms ;  and,  after  begging  me  to  be  dis- 
creet, made  me  promise  to  accompany 
him  this  evening  at  nightfall  on  a  jour- 
ney. You  see,  I  am  now  in  the  plot  my- 
self. What  do  you  think  of  that,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am  satisfied  with  you,"  replied 
the  chancellor.  "  You  have  played  a  dif- 


A  Last  Interview  81 

ficult  role,  and  you  have  played  it  well. 
I  must  confess  that  from  the  very  first 
you  have  divined  just  the  things  it  was 
necessary  for  us  to  know.  Although 
acting  but  as  an  obscure  agent,  you  have 
left  diplomats  of  experience  far  'be- 
hind. You  have  gone  straight  ahead, 
while  they  were  groping  blindly  about 
hoping  that  Providence  would  help  them 
to  solve  the  problems  too  hard  for  their 
powers.  When  the  cells  of  Spielberg 
shall  have  been  closed  upon  these  ac- 
cursed French  devils,  and  matters  are 
perfectly  tranquil  again,  and  when  our 
Imperial  ward,  disgusted  with  con- 
spiracies, recognizes  that  the  Empire  is 
a  thing  of  the  past,  I  will  make  it  a  point 
to  recompense  you  royally.  But,  before 
terminating  this  interview,  if  you  have 
any  favor  to  ask,  do  not  hesitate  to  do 
so.  I  am  ready  to  act  upon  it." 
'  "  Monseigneur,"  replied  Otto,  "  the 
praise  you  have  given  me  is  a  sufficient 
recompense  for  my  modest  services,  and 

6 


82  L'Aiglon 

the  request  I  am  going  to  prefer  will  be  a 
new  proof  of  my  devotion. 

"  At  the  park  gate,  in  the  cottage  where 
the  chief  gardener  lives,  you  have  an 
enemy.  Your  Excellency  was  speaking 
of  two  cells  in  Spielberg  for  the  French 
generals.  Let  a  third  one  open  its  door 
to  receive  that  man  forever." 

"  Who  ?  "  asked  Metternich. 

"  Silvere,"  replied  the  spy. 

And  he  went  out,  gloating  over  the 
vengeance  he  had  taken ;  for,  with  the  old 
soldier  once  in  prison,  it  would  not  be 
long  before  the  ward  would  fall  into  the 
clutches  of  the  person  whom  she  had  so 
mortally  offended. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE  ROAD  TO  THE  THRONE 

IT  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
the  moon  had  just  risen.  Its  cold, 
pale  rays  lighted  up  the  solitary  valley, 
and  the  ruins  of  the  old  abbey  seemed 
to  sleep  buried  under  its  mantle  of  moss. 

In  the  pass  which  gave  an  entrance 
to  the  place  two  men  on  horseback  were 
pursuing  their  way.  Riding  side  by  side, 
they  maintained  a  complete  silence,  and 
both  seemed  absorbed  in  the  deepest 
meditation.  These  two  men  were  the 
Duke  of  Reichstadt  and  Otto  de  Falken- 
stein. 

The  spy  felt  that  this  was  the  decisive 
hour;  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  going  to 
play  his  trump  card.  He  knew  that  up 
to  the  present  time  Chance  had  been  a 


84  L'Aiglon 

serviceable  partner  and  had  helped  to 
take  in  many  a  trick.  Like  all  gamblers, 
however,  he  was  fearful  lest  something 
unexpected  should  happen  at  the  last  mo- 
ment to  spoil  his  play.  He  thought,  too, 
of  the  promises  of  Metternich  and  of  the 
recompense  which  he  had  every  right  to 
expect;  but  his  knowledge  of  men,  and 
his  contempt  for  most  of  them,  made  him 
uncertain  and  nervous.  After  all,  what 
faith  could  he  place  in  the  chancellor? 
The  disdain  that  the  latter  had  never 
taken  the  trouble  to  conceal ;  his  sudden 
caprices;  the  deep  aversion  that  he 
plainly  perceived  sometimes  underlying 
the  icy  politeness — all  these  things  de- 
pressed him  at  the  moment  when  he  felt 
'he  was  attaining  his  end — when  he  was 
reaching  forth  his  hand  to  gather  the 
fruit  of  so  much  labor. 

A  thought  even  more  bitter  left  him  no 
rest;  he  was  but  a  spy — one  of  those 
despicable  instruments  of  whom  the  great 
make  use,  but  whom  they  throw  over 


The  Road  to  the  Throne         85 

without  compunction  when  they  find  it 
to  their  interest  to  do  so.  The  further 
he  rode  the  more  uneasy  he  became. 

What  he  feared  above  all  things  was  his 
complicity  in  the  shameful  forcing  of  the 
duke's  apartments.  He  had  been  a  wit- 
ness to  the  fact  that  the  Chancellor  of 
Austria,  a  Prince  of  the  Holy  Empire, 
had  been  guilty  of  acting  as  a  spy.  He 
recalled  how  by  the  light  of  the  veilleuse 
lie  had  looked  for  one  instant  into  the 
soul  of  the  terrible  chancellor,  and  what 
a  frightful  sight  he  had  seen. 

Reichstadt,  on  the  other  hand,  rode  on, 
his  head  held  high,  inhaling  the  balmy 
evening  air  with  deep-drawn  breaths. 
His  thoughts  were  of  an  entirely  different 
nature.  The  blessed  moment  he  had  so 
long  expected  was  about  to  arrive.  He 
was  going  to  cast  off  forever  the  Austrian 
uniform — that  slave's  livery.  When  he 
placed  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  on  setting 
out  from  the  gilded  cage  where  he  'had 
passed  his  melancholy  youth,  he  had 


86  L'Aiglon 

thrown  into  his  last  adieu  all  the  hatred 
so  long  stored  up  in  his  heart. 

And  on  the  morrow,  that  day  so  long 
desired,  the  son  of  the  Eagle,  with  wings 
widespread,  would  soar  swiftly  to  the 
scene  of  battles.  His  heart  was  fired  as 
by  a  bugle  blast ;  and  before  him  he  saw 
great  plains  covered  with  soldiery.  With 
drums  beating  and  standards  flung  to 
the  breeze  he  saw  the  opposing  masses 
under  the  broiling  sun  advance  to  the 
furious  charge ;  he  saw  the  steel  flash  in 
the  sun's  rays  and  heard  the  hollow 
booming  of  the  cannon  in  the  distance. 

As  if  in  a  dream,  insensible  to  his  sur- 
roundings, the  son  of  Napoleon  went  his 
way  on  the  road  whither  his  destiny  led 
him. 

A  strong  hand  on  his  bridle  rein  re- 
called him  to  earth,  and  he  saw  Silvere 
by  his  side. 

He  had  reached  his  destination. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  PUNISHMENT 

THE  new  arrivals,  preceded  by  Sil- 
vere,  entered  the  chapel,  which 
was  lighted  feebly  by  several  lamps. 

Near  the  ruined  steps  formerly  used 
for  reaching  the  altar  stood  two  cloaked 
figures. 

Upon  the  entrance  of  the  duke  they 
hurriedly  uncovered,  and  the  young  man 
perceived  two  manly,  soldierly  forms. 
They  smiled  with  pleasure  at  seeing  him, 
but  that  look  was  quickly  changed  when 
they  saw  by  whom  he  was  accompanied. 

Reichstadt,  perceiving  the  unfavorable 
impression  made  by  his  companion,  has- 
tened to  reassure  them. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he, "  do  not  believe, 
I  beg  of  you,  that  in  a  matter  so  grave  I 


88  L'Aiglon 

would  act  thoughtlessly.  I  know  very 
well  that  the  least  indiscretion  now  might 
entail  the  most  serious  results.  It  might 
be  a  matter  of  death  for  you  and  of  per- 
petual imprisonment  for  me.  But  fear 
nothing ;  the  man  with  me,  I  assure  you, 
came  here  at  my  request,  and  if  it  seems 
like  forgetting  the  elementary  principles 
of  prudence  to  bring  a  stranger,  I  can 
only  say  in  my  defence  that  I  did  it  be- 
cause I  was  expressly  so  instructed  to  do 
by  a  young  girl  whose  devotion  to  our 
cause  is  unquestionable.  I  speak  of  the 
adopted  daughter  of  my  old  servitor  Sil- 
vere." 

At  the  name  of  Colette,  and  learning 
that  she  was  the  cause  of  his  being  there, 
the  spy  felt  a  cold  shiver  run  down  his 
back.  Why,  he  thought,  should  this 
young  girl,  who  could  not  possibly  have 
any  feeling,  for  him  except  one  of  con- 
tempt, who  the  evening  before  had  ridi- 
culed him  so  cruelly — why  should  she 
bring  him  into  the  midst  of  a  plot  which, 


The  Punishment  89 

thanks  to  him,  was  going  to  end  in  noth- 
ing? Here  was  a  mystery  that  he  could 
not  fathom ;  but  he  was  not  the  man  to 
give  up  easily,  and  he  postponed  a  further 
consideration  of  the  subject. 

The  duke,  fearful  that  the  explanation 
of  his  conduct  which  he  had  given  would 
be  coldly  received,  and  beginning  to  think 
that  he  had  been  a  little  careless  in  treat- 
ing as  a  friend  a  man  who  had  given  no 
proof  that  he  deserved  confidence,  did  not 
observe  the  consternation  of  his  com- 
panion. 

Leaving  the  spy  in  the  company  of  Sil- 
vere,  the  duke  retired  to  a  corner  of  the 
chapel  for  a  conference  with  the  con- 
spirators. 

Finally  the  conference  was  ended. 
Everything  appeared  to  be  arranged. 
Silvere  had  just  lighted  a  torch,  in  order 
to  guide  the  party  out,  when  a  person 
whom  nobody  expected  made  her  ap- 
pearance. 

It  was  Colette. 


90  L'Aiglon 

What  was  the  meaning  of  her  appear- 
ance at  such  an  hour?  Did  she  come  to 
bid  the  duke  a  last  farewell  or  did  she  in- 
tend to  join  her  fortune  with  his  ? 

Such  were  the  questions  that  occurred 
to  those  present. 

Their  suspense  did  not  last  long. 

Pale  and  resolute,  she  turned  to  the 
generals,  who  were  looking  at  her  with 
stupefaction,  and  said: 

"  Gentlemen,  I  come  to  fulfil  a  sad 
duty.  The  devotion  that  you  entertain 
for  the  memory  of  your  Emperor  has 
caused  you  to  engage  in  a  project  worthy 
of  your  courage  and  energy.  Faithful 
to  your  word  given  at  the  Emperor's 
deathbed,  you  have  done  everything  dur- 
ing the  last  few  years  to  restore  to  the 
son  the  throne  lost  by  the  father.  You 
have  risked  your  heads  and  pushed  valor 
to  the  extreme  of  rashness  by  coming  so 
close  to  Schonbrunn,  the  aerie  of  the 
house  of  Austria,  to  bear  away  the  Eaglet 
who  has  so  long  been  held  in  captivity. 


The  Punishment  91 

"  But,  soldiers  ignorant  of  devious 
ways,  lions  who  fight  in  the  open,  your 
brave  efforts  are  to  fall  to  the  ground 
through  the  duplicity  and  underhand 
workings  of  those  whose  interest  it  is  to 
render  them  nugatory.  Your  noble  en- 
terprise, upon  the  point  of  succeeding, 
must  be  begun  again.  Your  plans  are 
known;  and  within  an  hour  an  army 
with  drawn  swords  and  muskets  pre- 
pared for  action  will  descend  upon  this 
valley,  for  they  have  sworn  to  take  you 
and  make  you  pay  for  the  terror  caused 
by  the  fear  of  a  Restoration.  Silvere, 
who  knows  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  this 
place,  will  be  able  to  get  you  safe  and 
sound  out  of  this  abbey,  where  your 
enemies  expected  to  find  and  shoot 
you. 

"  An  asylum  awaits  you,  where  you 
will  remain  until  the  storm  blows  over. 
The  frontier  is  guarded.  Your  task  is 
finished  and  mine  now  begins." 

Then,  turning  toward  Otto,  who  was 


92  L'Aiglon 

by  this  time  in  a  cold  perspiration,  she 
said: 

"  Arrest  this  man.  We  have  still  an 
hour ;  it  will  be  sufficient  for  revenge." 

Silvere  led  him  aside  and  bound  his 
hands. 

The  duke,  with  his  hands  to  his  head, 
dropped  upon  an  oak  bench,  and  the  gen- 
erals impassively  waited  for  the  young 
girl  to  speak  again. 

"  You  recall,  gentlemen,"  continued 
Colette,  "  our  departure  from  Paris,  the 
rapid  trip  we  made  to  Strasbourg,  and 
the  ingenious  trick  by  which  we  suc- 
ceeded in  outwitting  the  watchfulness  of 
the  man  who  was  shadowing  us  ?  Well, 
a  few  days  after  my  arrival  I  had  an  inter- 
view with  Monseigneur  the  Duke,  in 
which  I  made  him  acquainted  with  our 
plans.  When  I  was  leaving  him,  and 
just  as  I  had  announced  to  him  the 
place  and  time  of  the  rendezvous,  what 
was  my  surprise  to  see  hanging  around, 
and  seeming  to  spy  upon  us,  the  very 


The  Punishment  93 

same  creature  that  followed  us  to  Stras- 
bourg. 

" '  Who  was  he,  and  what  was  he  doing 
at  the  chateau  ?  '  That  was  what  I  asked 
myself,  and,  as  you  will  see,  I  received  a 
very  conclusive  answer  in  the  sequel. 

"  I  was  destined  to  meet  him  twice 
more. 

"  Of  my  first  meeting  with  him  I  will 
say  little,  for  it  is  a  matter  personal  to 
myself,  and  the  insult  I  received  from 
him  is  a  trifling  matter  compared  with 
the  interests  which  we  all  have  at  stake. 
I  will,  then,  speak  only  of  the  second  of 
these  meetings. 

"  It  was  during  the  fete  given  last 
night.  Taking  advantage  of  the  servants 
being  engaged  elsewhere,  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  evening  I  sought  the  apart- 
ments of  the  duke,  whom  I  had  seen 
occupied  in  receiving  his  guests.  It 
was  necessary  for  me  to  give  him  the  let- 
ter that  we  had  obtained  in  Vienna  a  few 
days  before.  I  entered  his  room  by  a 


94  L'Aiglon 

secret  passage  Which  Silvere  had  shown 
to  me,  and  approaching  the  cabinet  where 
he  kept  his  papers,  I  was  about  to  place 
my  letter  where  he  could  see  it,  when  the 
sound  of  some  one  trying  to  force  open 
a  door  attracted  my  attention  and  obliged 
me  to  conceal  myself — not,  however,  till 
I  had  repossessed  myself  of  my  letter. 

"  I  held  my  breath,  and,  although  fear- 
ing nothing  for  myself,  I  could  not  help 
trembling. 

"  Judge  of  my  surprise  when,  the  lock 
giving  away,  I  saw  by  the  pale  light 
of  the  veilleuse  the  Prince  of  Metternich 
and  this  creature.  Their  presence  in  that 
part  of  the  chateau  puzzled  me  in  no  little 
degree,  but  at  the  first  words  they  uttered 
I  shuddered  and  feared  that  I  should 
swoon.  I  exerted  all  my  self-control, 
however,  resolving  to  hear  to  the  end  the 
sinister  verdict  which  would  put  an  end 
to  all  our  hopes.  Then  it  was  that  I 
learned  that  this  cursed  spy  tracked  us 
step  by  step  all  the  time  since  our  depart- 


The  Punishment  95 

ure  from  Paris.  Disconcerted  for  a  mo- 
ment by  our  abrupt  flight  at  Strasbourg, 
he  had  soon  regained  his  courage,  and 
fortune  smiled  upon  him  here  and  threw 
me  in  his  way. 

"  Being  curious  to  know  the  cause  of 
my  being  in  Schonbrunn,  he  came  up 
close  to  the  duke  and  me  and  overheard 
our  secret ;  and  lost  no  time  in  acquaint- 
ing his  master  with  the  facts. 

"  All  this  time  I  was  hidden  behind  the 
hangings,  powerless  to  act  and  hardly 
able  to  suppress  my  sobs — from  time  to 
time  fancying  myself  the  victim  of  a 
nightmare.  When  at  daybreak  the  two 
men  took  their  departure,  I  had  made  my 
resolutions.  I  had  sat  in  judgment  on 
the  spy,  condemned  him,  and  set  a  trap 
to  catch  him.  Blinded  by  his  success 
hitherto  he  has,  as  you  see,  rushed  head- 
long into  it. 

"  That  is  my  report.  But  if  we  have  lost 
the  throne  we  can  still  have  vengeance." 

The  duke,  who  all  this  time  had  lis- 
I 


96  L'Aiglon 

tened  to  Colette  without  making  a  move- 
ment which  could  reveal  his  thoughts, 
rose  from  his  seat  and,  turning  to  Otto, 
said  : 

"  You  have  heard  this  girl's  statement. 
It  is  a  grave  charge  indeed,  and  I  believe 
that  it  is  useless  to  dwell  more  upon  it. 
But  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  on 
my  own  account. 

"  Under  the  auspices  of  the  Emperor, 
my  grandfather,  you  have  betrayed  my 
confidence.  In  order  to  compromise  me 
more  thoroughly  you  have  pried  into  my 
most  secret  thoughts  and  aspirations. 
You  have  done  worse  than  that.  I  was 
ignorant  of  perfidy,  and  you  have  caused 
me  to  lose  my  faith  in  human  nature  by 
showing  me  the  hollowness  of  friendship. 
A  shameful  act  for  a  nobleman — for  one 
who  wears  a  sword." 

Silvere,  hearing  these  words,  emerged 
from  the  shadow  and  exclaimed : 

"  He  noble !  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Monsei- 
gneur.  Listen. 


The  Punishment  97 

"  The  other  evening  after  sunset  I  was 
strolling  in  my  garden,  when  I  heard 
several  persons  talking  on  the  other  side 
of  the  wall.  I  am  not  very  curious  as  a 
rule,  but  I  heard  a  name  uttered  that  im- 
mediately made  me  all  attention.  They 
were  speaking  of  this  gentleman. 

"  Well,  I  heard — fine  things,  certainly. 
Two  stable  boys,  thinking  they  were  not 
overheard,  were  speaking  their  minds 
very  freely.  They  criticised  their  respec- 
tive masters  in  turn,  and  when  it  came  to 
this  fellow's  turn  to  receive  a  character, 
this  is  what  they  said :  That  the  noble  was 
no  noble,  the  count  no  count;  that  the 
sword  he  carried  was  like  his  nobility — 
a  lie.  They  said  that  he  was  a  blackleg 
pardoned  from  jail  one  evening  when 
there  was  a  demand  for  spies." 

And  turning  to  Otto,  who  in  a  fury 
of  rage  was  vainly  trying  to  burst  his 
thongs,  he  added: 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Mon- 
sieur le  Comte  ? " 


98  L'Aiglon 

In  response  to  this  thrust,  the  player 
who  had  lost  the  game  on  which  his  life 
was  at  stake  stepped  toward  his  judges. 

But  the  duke  rose  again,  and,  ad- 
dressing himself  to  the  generals,  said : 

"  Do  you  think  that  death  will  be 
sufficient  punishment  for  this  man  ?  " 

The  two  generals  bowed  in  the  affirma- 
tive. 

Colette  thereupon  mounted  the  steps 
of  the  altar,  removed  her  black  veil,  and 
wrapped  it  like  a  winding  sheet  about 
the  immense  bronze  crucifix.  When  she 
had  come  down  to  the  floor  again,  Sil- 
vere,  turning  to  the  duke,  said : 

"  Monseigneur,  if  it  is  your  will,  I  be- 
lieve that  we  shall  be  able  to  put  away 
from  the  sight  of  men  this  worthless  crea- 
ture without  soiling  our  hands  with  his 
blood.  Below  this  edifice  there  is  a 
crypt  extending  to  a  great  depth.  The 
monks  who  formerly  inhabited  the  build- 
ing, following  a  custom  which  obtains  in 
certain  religious  houses  in  Spain  and 


The  Punishment  99 

Italy,  instead  of  burying  their  dead  placed 
them  in  the  stalls  of  the  subterranean 
chapel.  That  place  is  devoted  strictly  to 
the  dead,  and  nothing  can  come  there  to 
trouble  the  frightful  stillness. 

"  I  am  the  only  person  now  living  who 
knows  of  the  existence  of  this  crypt,  and 
my  knowledge  is  going  to  be  of  excellent 
use  to  us." 

The  old  soldier  then  stooped  down  and 
brought  forth  from  beneath  the  altar 
steps  the  crowbar,  and,  by  a  slight  pres- 
sure, caused  the  stone  slab  to  slide  into  the 
grooves  as  the  old  monk  had  taught  him 
to  do.  The  slab  rocked  unsteadily,  and 
a  yawning  cavity  met  the  gaze  of  those 
present. 

Then,  picking  up  a  stout  cord,  he 
passed  it  under  the  armpits  of  the  spy. 

The  latter,  who  knew  his  last  hour  had 
come,  was  terribly  pale,  but  uttered  no 
word. 

The  duke,  addressing  him  then  for  the 
last  time,  said : 


ioo  L'Aiglon 

"  If  you  have  any  last  request  to  make, 
or  if  you  wish  to  pray,  now  is  the  time,  for 
I  regret  to  say  we  need  every  moment." 

Otto  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

One  of  the  generals,  raising  his  hand, 
made  a  signal,  and  Otto  disappeared  in 
the  abyss,  and  the  stone  resumed  its  place 
forever. 

It  was  time.  In  the  distance  could  be 
heard  the  sound  of  troops.  Silvere  had 
only  time  to  strain  Colette  to  his  breast 
and  press  the  duke's  hand ;  then,  catching 
up  a  torch  which  he  had  lighted  at  the 
swinging  lamp,  he  disappeared  within  the 
secret  passage,  followed  by  the  generals. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  Metternich 
and  several  officers  entered  the  chapel. 
To  their  great  surprise,  they  found  no 
one  there  except  the  duke  and  Colette, 
who  were  sitting  on  a  rickety  oak  bench, 
engaged  in  a  conversation  so  engrossing 
to  them  that  they  did  not  cease  even  when 
the  chancellor  advanced  and  plied  them 
with  questions. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

LOVE 

THE  conversation  of  the  young 
couple  was  not,  as  might  be  sup- 
posed, a  ruse  to  baffle  suspicion.  The 
minds  of  Reichstadt  and  Colette  were  too 
lofty  to  make  use  of  such  a  subterfuge. 

The  young  girl,  who  had  seen  her  be- 
loved project  fail,  instead  of  yielding  to 
despair,  banished  all  remembrance  of  self, 
and  thought  only  of  consoling  the  young 
man  sitting  by  her. 

The  duke,  whom  she  had  fondly  hoped 
to  call  the  king — the  emperor — and 
whom  she  loved,  had  lost  everything. 
He  had  lost  even  hope.  He  was  like  an- 
other Icarus  deprived  of  his  wings,  and 
destined  to  return  to  slavery ;  she  felt  that 
she  was  the  only  thing  left  to  him  in  the 


IO2  L'Aiglon 

world ;  and  she  swore  that  she  would  take 
possession  of  his  5911!  and  heal  his 
wounds.  She  would  spend  her  life  in 
consoling1  and  making  him  happy. 

This  resolution  being  taken,  she  ac- 
cepted the  duke's  arm  and  walked  past 
the  group  of  officers  who  had  fondly  ex- 
pected to  capture  the  conspirators.  A 
few  minutes  after,  the  young  couple  had 
left  the  monastery,  where  lay  buried  for- 
ever the  project  which,  if  carried  out, 
would  have  overturned  the  world. 

The  moon  had  nearly  reached  the  hori- 
zon and  the  valley  was  in  darkness.  In 
this  solitude,  perfumed  by  a  host  of  flow- 
ers offering  themselves  to  the  caresses  of 
the  night,  the  young  couple  wandered  as 
if  in  a  dream.  No  words  passed  between 
them,  but  their  hearts  were  singing.  The 
duke,  with  his  arm  around  the  young 
girl,  kept  her  from  falling  on  the  mossy 
carpet.  A  tree  blown  across  the  road 
offered  them  a  seat,  and  eye  to  eye,  lip 
to  lip,  they  sat  down  trembling. 


Love  103 

They  said  nothing;  their  overcharged 
hearts  beat  violently,  and  they  under- 
stood each  other  without  words. 

The  duke  was  the  first  to  recover  him- 
self. 

"  So,"  he  said,  "  my  dream  is  over. 
Fortune  has  declared  herself  my  enemy. 
A  few  hours  and  I  must  put  on  the  yoke 
again  that  I  hoped  I  had  cast  aside  for- 
ever. Dear  father,  if  you  could  see  me, 
how  grieved  you  would  be !  The  throne 
that  you  meant  me  to  have  another  will 
possess,  and,  sad  and  disinherited,  I  will 
drag  through  my  unhappy  days  a  humili- 
ated slave  bound  to  the  chariot  of  the 
conqueror.  Until  now  I  have  been 
buoyed  up  by  hope  and  have  been  able 
to  endure  the  despicable  present,  but 
there  is  no  to-morrow  for  me  now.  Des- 
tiny— cruel,  pitiless — does  not  allow  me 
to  think  of  the  future.  My  heart  is  dead. 
It  seems  as  if  my  blood  were  turned  to 
ice.  My  arm,  strong  for  almost  super- 


104  L'Aiglon 

'human  tasks,  is  paralyzed  and  dead.  I 
can  hardly  hold  the  sword  which  I  wear 
by  the  irony  of  fate.  It  is  only  a  dress 
sword,  and  is  fastened  tight  in  the  scab- 
bard. My  grief  is  so  great  that  I  am 
afraid  to  weep." 

And  he  laid  his  head  on  Colette's 
bosom  and  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would 
break. 

The  young  girl  took  his  head  in  her 
two  hands  and  kissed  him  reverently,  as 
a  mother  might. 

"  Dear  one,"  she  said,  "  your  sorrow 
cuts  me  to  the  soul ;  your  tears  are  pitiful 
to  see.  I  would  give  my  own  heart's 
blood  if  I  could  stop  them  falling.  Your 
throne  is  lost,  but  Colette  remains — Co- 
lette, Who  will  love  you  till  you  forget 
everything. 

"  And  some  day,  consoled,  you  will 
look  back  to  this  night  and  will  scout 
the  idea  that  a  purple  ribbon  is  worth 
weeping  for. 

"  I  will  be  your  mother,  your  darling 


Love  105 

sister.  A  devoted  mistress,  I  will  make 
in  your  soul  a  nest  for  me — me  only. 

"  In  the  warm  summer  days  we  will  go 
to  beautiful  Italy  and  will  spend  happy 
days  without  care  and  without  sadness. 
When  the  winter  comes  we  shall  hear  the 
boatmen  sing  on  the  bay  of  Naples. 

"  Thus  shall  we  grow  old  together ;  and 
when  our  heads  are  crowned  with  snow 
we  will  go  to  God  and  continue  there  for 
evermore  our  dream  of  love." 

The  duke  listened,  smiling,  to  the 
charming  voice  of  the  siren,  till  the  birds, 
welcoming  the  sun,  taught  them  it  was 
time  to  part. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

SILVERE 

EICHSTADT  and  Colette  had  re- 
turned  to  the  chateau  as  if  nothing 
had  happened,  and  taken  up  their  usual 
mode  of  life ;  but  Metternich  acted  differ- 
ently. The  chancellor,  after  his  check,  en- 
tered the  palace  in  a  state  of  irritation  dif- 
ficult to  imagine.  He  could  not  keep  out 
of  his  thoughts  the  scene  in  that  devilish 
monastery  where,  surrounded  by  his  of- 
ficers, he  had  been  forced  to  confess  that 
he  was  foiled,  and  to  accept  the  explana- 
tions of  Reichstadt  with  studied  politeness. 
He  had  been  duped  by  two  children.  He, 
who  had  for  years  played  such  an  impor- 
tant role  on  the  European  checkerboard, 
had  been  successfully  tricked  like  a  coun- 


Silvere  107 

tryman  in  a  play.  Just  as  he  was  going 
to  bag  his  game  it  had  disappeared. 
And  then  that  spy,  puffed  up  with  vanity 
and  already  bargaining  for  a  reward,  must 
make  a  pitiable  failure.  He,  Metternich, 
usually  so  distrustful,  and  knowing  that 
every  good  quality  has  its  compensating 
vice,  and  that  a  trifling  slip  can  shipwreck 
the  most  carefully  prepared  plans,  had 
given  carte  blanche  to  this  young  man. 

What  had  become  of  the  fellow,  any- 
way ?  Doubtless  he  had  feared  to  be  pun- 
ished for  his  stupidity,  and  had  left  the 
country  and  gone  to  play  the  same  role 
in  a  new  scene. 

It  was  a  serious  blow  to  the  chancellor. 
He  was  a  proud  man,  before  whom  every 
one  was  accustomed  to  give  way. 

Then  what  should  he  do  with  the  duke, 
a  worthy  son  of  his  father,  whom  he  had 
left  free  to  come  and  go  in  the  vast  do- 
main of  Schonbrunn,  shutting  his  eyes  to 
his  desires  for  independence,  although  he 
had  never  ceased  his  surveillance  over 


io8  L'Aiglon 

him?  How  much  better  it  would  have 
been  if  he  had  been  put  in  a  cell  in  the 
Spielberg  instead  of  being  given  this  resi- 
dence, open  to  all  comers ;  and  he  thought 
of  the  part  played  in  history  by  the  Tower 
of  London  and  the  prisons  of  Venice. 
To  confine  the  young  man  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  Europe,  which  was  breath- 
ing again  and  enjoying  the  benefits  of 
a  peace  that  it  had  been  so  long  a 
stranger  to,  would  not  hear  of  a  restora- 
tion which  would  upset  all  that ;  but,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  would  have  demanded 
a  rigid  account  for  innocent  blood  spilled. 
He  would  think  over  it. 

In  the  meantime  he  could  vent  his  ill- 
humor  on  some  one ;  and  he  sent  for  Sil- 
vere. 

The  old  soldier,  after  putting  his  com- 
panions in  a  safe  place,  hastened  to  his 
cottage,  resolved  to  brave  the  storm  if 
necessary. 

When  he  received  the  message  to  at- 
tend the  chancellor  he  obeyed  without 


Silvere  109 

fear,  knowing  that  his  conscience  was 
clear. 

On  seeing  him  enter,  the  chancellor, 
who  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room, 
a  prey  to  a  rage  all  the  greater  for  having 
been  restrained  so  long,  folded  his  arms 
and,  giving  him  a  look  that  would  have 
made  any  one  else  quail,  said  sharply : 

"  You  probably  wonder  why  I  sent  for 
you  so  promptly." 

Silvere,  without  losing  aught  of  his 
calmness,  replied: 

"  If  your  Excellency  has  any  charge  to 
make  against  me,  I  am  ready  to  listen  re- 
spectfully. As  an  accused  person,  how- 
ever, I  shall  reserve  the  right  to  call  to 
your  attention  anything  that  would  count 
in  my  favor." 

"  You  talk  too  much,  Mr.  Soldier,"  ex- 
claimed the  prince,  violently.  "  You  have 
been  tolerated  here  too  long,  and  to-mor- 
row you  can  take  yourself  off." 

"  You  will  send  me  off " 

"  That  is  the  idea  exactly,"  returned 


no  L'Aiglon 

Metternich ;  "  and  my  only  regret  is  that 
you  were  ever  permitted  to  enter  the  cha- 
teau. If  the  Emperor,  my  august  master, 
had  taken  the  wise  advice  that  I  contin- 
ually gave  him,  you  would  have  gone  long 
ago.  But  His  Majesty,  fearing  to  dis- 
please his  grandson,  did  not  see  the  ne- 
cessity of  adopting  that  measure.  It  is 
now  absolutely  necessary  that  you  leave ; 
and  I  am  going  to  the  Emperor  at  once ; 
and  I  think  I  shall  have  little  trouble  in 
inducing  him  to  consent  to  your  expul- 
sion." 

"  Oh,  Monseigneur,"  exclaimed  Sil- 
vere,  "  do  not  do  that.  You  will  kill  my 
young  master  if  you  take  away  from  him 
the  poor  old  servant  who  has  never  aban- 
doned him.  It  would  be  my  death-blow, 
too.  I  could  not  live  if  I  were  separated 
from  him.  If  you  drive  me  away  it  is  be- 
cause you  know  I  am  a  sentinel  who  is 
watching  you,  and  am  able  to  divine  your 
sinister  intentions. 
,  "  Let  me  tell  you  something : 


Silvere  in 

"  I  was  born  a  waif ;  I  have  never 
known  what  it  is  to  be  petted  or  caressed. 
I  have  never  received  a  parent's  kiss.  I 
was  brought  up  by  charity,  and  I  never 
got  enough  food  to  satisfy  my  gnawing 
hunger.  Many  is  the  time  I  have  gone 
out  at  nightfall  and  fought  with  prowling 
dogs  for  a  scrap  of  food  cast  away  in  the 
gutter.  I  was  never  named,  but  I  have 
always  been  known  as  Silvere.  Many  a 
time  I  have  blushed  to  think  what  a  sad 
fate  was  mine. 

"  In  time  I  became  a  soldier,  and,  for- 
getting my  troubles,  I  did  my  duty  at  the 
front;  my  wounds  will  bear  me  out  in 
that. 

"  One  day,  after  a  battle,  the  Emperor 
called  me  out  of  the  ranks,  shook  me  by 
the  hand,  and  gave  me  a  badge  of  honor. 
From  that  moment  I  became  a  different 
creature.  I  began  gradually  to  acquire 
self-respect ;  and  I  swore  that  I  would  die 
for  him.  Fate,  however,  wished  it  other- 
wise ;  but, when  I  lost  the  father,!  had  still 


112  L'Aiglon 

the  son.  I  have  taken  my  oath  never 
to  leave  him,  and  no  one  can  make  me 
break  it. 

"  That  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you.  May 
I  go?" 

Metternich  made  a  sign  in  the  affirma- 
tive, and  Silvere  left  the  room. 

Had  he  gained  his  cause  ? 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

WITH  THE  EMPEROR 

THE  head  of  the  Austro-Hungarian 
monarchy,  His  Majesty  the  Em- 
peror Francis  I.,  had  just  returned  from 
hearing  mass  in  his  private  chapel ;  and, 
according  to  custom,  was  about  to  take 
his  daily  walk  in  that  portion  of  the  park 
reserved  for  his  use,  when,  to  his  great 
surprise,  it  was  announced  that  the  chan- 
cellor wished  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of 
urgent  importance. 

Much  puzzled  at  the  request  at  so  early 
an  hour,  and  suspecting  that  some  matter 
of  grave  importance  was  involved,  the 
Emperor  ordered  that  he  be  admitted  at 
once.  The  chancellor  was  within  the 
apartment  almost  as  soon  as  the  message 
was  received.  He  still  bore  traces  of  the 


H4  L'Aiglon 

violent  anger  to  which  he  had  yielded — 
traces  which  did  not  escape  the  keen 
glance  of  the  Emperor. 

It  will  facilitate  comprehension  of  Met- 
ternich's  action  to  go  back  a  little. 

After  Silvere's  departure,  he  sank  into 
one  of  those  deep  reveries  from  which  he 
customarily  awoke  prepared  to  combat 
and  overcome  the  difficulties  in  his  way. 
He  had  listened  coldly  to  the  expostula- 
tions of  the  old  soldier.  His  self-contained 
nature  had  not  been  at  all  moved  by  the 
pleadings  of  the  servitor.  In  his  long 
career  he  had  brushed  aside  and  disre- 
garded those  sentiments  which  make  up 
so  large  a  part  of  the  life  of  humanity. 
Sentiment,  to  him,  was  nothing  unless 
he  could  use  it  for  his  own  purpose. 
Love,  hate,  gratitude,  friendship,  were 
merely  varieties  of  tomfoolery.  He 
treated  them  as  if  they  were  strands  in  a 
skein  of  wool.  He  tangled  the  skein  or 
disentangled  it — just  as  his  interest  de- 
manded. 


With  the  Emperor  115 

Now  he  reflected:  There  is  love;  why 
not  make  use  of  that  human  weakness? 
The  duke  was  in  love,  and  there  could  be 
little  doubt  that  the  object  of  his  passion 
was  the  adopted  child.  Spurred  on  by 
this  sentiment,  he  might  be  able  to  burst 
asunder  the  invisible  shackles  with  which 
he  had  been  so  ably  held  in  check.  If 
he,  Metternich,  should  oust  Silvere  and 
forbid  Colette  access  to  the  chateau,  he 
would  arouse  the  anger  of  the  duke,  who 
might  adopt  some  of  those  desperate 
measures  that  people  take  when  crossed 
in  their  love  affairs.  What  would  be  the 
good  of  turning  them  away  when  there 
was  an  easier  course  to  pursue?  Was 
there  not  at  his  beck  and  call  an  exquisite 
creature,  just  made  for  love,  whose  beauty 
could  not  fail  to  produce  its  effect  on  the 
duke?  She  had  all  the  qualities  neces- 
sary for  his  purpose.  She  was  trust- 
worthy; she  was  discreet,  and  she  was 
capable  of  easily  comprehending  what 
was  required  of  her. 


n  6  L'Aiglon 

But,  in  order  to  procure  her  access  to 
the  chateau,  and  throw  her  in  Reich- 
stadt's  way,  it  was  essential  that  she  be 
attached  to  the  service  of  the  archduch- 
ess; and  to  accomplish  that,  the  consent 
of  the  Emperor  must  be  obtained. 

The  Emperor  opened  the  conversa- 
tion. 

"  Your  Excellency  must  have  had  some 
very  important  matter  to  communicate 
when  you  asked  me  to  receive  you  with- 
out being  summoned.  Does  a  danger 
threaten  the  monarchy?  Is  there  some 
new  combination  which  augurs  ill  to  the 
peace  which  we  are  now  enjoying,  and  for 
which  we  paid  so  dear  ?  " 

"  Sire,"  replied  Metternich,  "  Your 
Majesty  is  not  unaware  of  the  difficulties 
I  have  had  and  which  the  Allies  have  had 
in  imposing  peace.  The  death  of  Bona- 
parte rendered  our  task  less  difficult, 
Europe  was  beginning  to  breathe  more 
freely,  and  the  wars  of  the  past  had  left 
but  slight  traces,  and  even  those  were 


With  the  Emperor  117 

gradually  dying  out.  Everything  was 
going  along  well  until  yesterday,  when 
one  of  those  unexpected  things  happened 
which  nearly  nullified  all  these  years  of 
labor. 

"  A  young  man,  a  child  almost,  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  matter.  But  I  was 
watching  his  every  step ;  I  knew  at  each 
hour  of  the  day  what  he  was  doing ;  and  at 
the  critical  moment  I  reached  forth  my 
hand,  when  the  plot  vanished  like  mist 
before  the  sun.  Who  knows,  however, 
if  the  next  time  I  shall  be  so  fortunate? 
Every  precaution  must  be  taken.  If  I 
had  not  been  on  my  guard,  Europe  would 
have  been  on  fire,  and  do  you  know  what 
would  have  emerged  from  the  conflagra- 
tion?" 

"  This  is  terrible  news,"  exclaimed  the 
Emperor. 

"  Your  Majesty  may  reassure  your- 
self; but  I  am  bound  to  tell  you  what 
would  have  arisen  out  of  the  ruins — it 
would  have  been  the  Empire.  The  Em- 


n8  L'Aiglon 

pire  of  which  Napoleon  dreamed  would 
have  been  un  fait  accompli.  With  the 
Treaty  of  Paris  torn  to  shreds  and  the 
July  monarchy  gone  to  the  dogs,  the 
King  of  Rome  would  have  returned  to 
the  Tuileries  to  the  sound  of  the  drum. 
We  were  close  to  it. 

"  But  your  Majesty  does  not  ask  me 
the  name  of  this  young  man." 

"  I  know  who  it  is,"  replied  the  Em- 
peror, wearily ;  "  but  what  do  you  intend 
to  do?" 

"  I  have  thought  very  deeply  over 
the  subject,"  replied  Metternich,  "  and 
this  is  the  result :  Will  your  Majesty 
sign  this  paper?  It  appoints  the  Coun- 
tess Maria  Assunta  San-Severina  to 
the  place  of  dame  d'honneur  attached 
to  the  person  of  the  Archduchess  So- 
phia." 

The  Emperor  appended  his  signature 
to  the  paper  without  a  moment's  loss  of 
time.  Then  he  said : 

"  This  order  won't  assist  you  much  in 


With  the  Emperor  119 

carrying  out  your  purpose,  but  that  is 
your  affair." 

Metternich,  without  replying,  took  the 
order  of  appointment,  and,  bowing  re- 
spectfully, left  the  room. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

LA  SAN-SEVERINA 

TOWARD  the  end  of  the  winter  of 
1801,  a  dansen.se  named  Frago- 
letta  was  the  delight  of  the  habitufo  of  the 
Grand  Theatre  of  Venice.  The  Vene- 
tians, who  are  warm  admirers  of  the  bal- 
let, had  rarely  seen  such  a  sylph  on  the 
boards  of  their  favorite  theatre.  Every 
evening,  after  being  repeatedly  recalled 
before  the  curtain,  she  entered  her  gon- 
dola and  disappeared  mysteriously  from 
the  sight  of  the  swains  who  were  left 
sighing  for  her  in  vain. 

The  most  contradictory  stories  were 
current  concerning  the  beautiful  dan- 
seuse.  According  to  some,  she  was  abso- 
lutely circumspect,  and  lived  in  retire- 
ment with  her  mother  in  a  secluded  part 


La  San-Severina  121 

of  the  city.  Other  reports  had  it  that  she 
was  deeply  smitten  with  a  gondolier, 
and  despised  the  attentions  of  the  noble 
and  wealthy;  that  every  evening  she  was 
borne  away  in  her  lover's  craft,  and  en- 
joyed a  devoted  love  in  an  obscure 
lodging-house.  In  Venice  people  live  for 
love  and  music;  and  it  is  the  city  par 
excellence  where  little  secrets,  like  the 
pigeons  of  St.  Mark's,  fly  rapidly  about, 
and  make  their  appearance  suddenly  in 
widely  separated  places. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  both  rumors  were 
unfounded. 

The  ballerina,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  had 
distinguished  with  her  favor  a  noble 
Venetian,  whose  ancestors  for  many  years 
had  filled  the  highest  places  in  the  repub- 
lic. His  family,  however,  without  going 
to  the  wall,  had,  like  many  others  of  the 
great  houses,  suffered  through  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  country,  and  been  obliged 
to  dispose  of  a  large  portion  of  their  es- 
tate. They  were  able  to  still  make  a  good 


122  L'Aiglon 

appearance,  and  keep  their  numerous  re- 
tainers in  the  antechambers  of  their  pal- 
ace on  the  Grand  Canal,  but  it  was  only 
by  reducing  to  the  lowest  possible  notch 
the  income  of  the  young  count. 

This  young  man,  Orio  San-Severino, 
felt  it  therefore  necessary  that  he  should 
hide  his  infatuation  for  the  danseuse, 
as  his  friends  had  not  failed  to  im- 
press on  him  the  necessity  of  his  making 
an  alliance  with  a  daughter  of  one  of  the 
wealthy  families,  that  he  might  restore 
his  family  to  its  former  splendor. 

If  he  had  had  brothers  and  sisters  the 
young  man  would  have  probably  yielded 
to  their  arguments  and  married  some 
heiress;  but,  being  the  last  of  his  race,  and 
little  inclined  to  purchase  wealth  in  a 
manner  that  seemed  to  him  little  else  than 
a  disgraceful  bargain,  he  preferred  to  re- 
main poor  but  free.  Fragoletta  returned 
to  him  a  hundred-fold  that  which  he  sac- 
rificed for  her.  Loving  the  count  more 
than  anything  except  her  Creator,  she 


La  San-Severina  123 

made  each  day  a  new  revelation  of  love 
for  him.  She  was  an  accomplished  musi- 
cian, and  she  spent  such  time  as  she  was 
not  occupied  at  the  theatre  in  producing 
the  most  delightful  harmonies  until  far 
on  into  the  night. 

Thus  they  lived,  ecstatically  happy,  in 
that  fortunate  land,  where  the  delights 
of  art  are  within  the  reach  of  all.  Venice, 
with  its  noble  monuments  of  the  past ;  its 
magnificent  palaces  standing  sentinel 
over  the  canals;  its  myriad  of  gondolas 
gliding  over  the  lagoon  like  swallows 
grazing  the  waves,  is  certainly  the  local- 
ity best  adapted  to  art;  and  the  Ital- 
ian temperament,  devotedly  attached  to 
music,  poetry,  and  painting,  manifests 
itself  here  as  nowhere  else.  The  lovers 
made  full  use  of  these  bounteous  oppor- 
tunities. 

To  still  further  add  to  their  happiness, 
a  child  was  born  to  them — a  little  pink- 
and-white  darling,  who  was  to  share  their 
warm  nest. 


124  L'Aiglon 

But  the  Death  Angel  was  not  far  off. 

One  evening  Fragoletta,  on  coming 
out  of  the  theatre,  after  a  performance 
where  the  opera-goers  were  more  than 
usually  enthusiastic,  expressed  a  desire  to 
go  to  the  Lido  to  enjoy  the  free,  fresh  air. 
Soon  after  her  return  home  she  became 
ill;  a  few  days  afterward  Orio  and  the 
child  were  alone  in  their  rooms ;  the  soul 
of  the  little  family  had  departed. 

The  bereaved  count  bestowed  on  the 
child  the  tenderness  that  he  had  felt  for 
the  mother.  He  acknowledged  her  as 
his  own,  though  by  so  doing  he  broke 
with  his  family. 

Some  time  after  Fragoletta's  death  he 
inherited  an  estate  of  considerable  value, 
and  was  thus  enabled  to  live  in  a  manner 
consistent  with  his  dignity  and  self-re- 
spect. He  continued,  however,  to  live  for 
his  daughter  alone.  Abandoning  that 
world  for  which  he  had  never  had  a  very 
exalted  respect,  young  as  he  was,  he  se- 
cluded himself  in  the  palace  he  had  inher- 


La  San-Severina  125 

ited,  and,  like  another  Pygmalion,  de- 
voted himself  to  the  forming  of  an  ideal 
Galatea.  The  young  girl  grew  up  to  be 
like  one  of  those  masterpieces  created  by 
Titian  or  Giorgione,  which  are  the  glory 
of  Italy.  Over  the  ivory  bust  hung  daz- 
zling hair  which  seemed  to  have  im- 
prisoned within  it  the  ardent  rays  of  the 
Venetian  sun — a  royal  mantle,  with  which 
jealous  Nature  strove  to  conceal  the  har- 
monies of  her  virgin  figure  from  the  gaze 
of  the  profane. 

Such,  at  sixteen,  was  the  Countess 
Maria  Assunta  San-Severina.  Her 
father,  in  addition  to  taking  every  means 
to  develop  her  physical  beauty,  had  se- 
cured for  her  education  the  most  cele- 
brated professors  who  could  be  found  in 
Italy.  The  girl  was  a  ready  pupil — am- 
bitious and  gifted  with  unusual  intelli- 
gence ;  and  she  profited  to  the  full  by  their 
instructions. 

His  work  was  finished,  and  the  count, 
who  had  never  recovered  from  the  loss  of 


126  L'Aiglon 

his  mistress,  feeling  his  occupation  gone, 
passed  away  one  summer  evening,  bless- 
ing the  child  who  had,  in  some  part,  con- 
soled him  for  his  loss. 

The  young  girl  now  felt  herself  indeed 
alone. 

The  count's  family,  which  had  never 
pardoned  him  for  his  infatuation,  thought 
it  would  not  be  a  difficult  task  to  cheat 
the  child  out  of  the  estate  left  by  her 
father.  The  girl  had  no  relations,  except 
a  sister  of  her  mother,  with  whom  she  at 
once  went  to  reside,  being  unable  to  live 
alone  in  the  old  palace,  where  everything 
reminded  her  of  her  loss. 

It  was  at  the  dwelling-place  of  this 
aunt  that  a  lawyer's  clerk,  acting  in  behalf 
of  her  father's  family,  visited  her  and  at- 
tempted to  induce  her  to  sign  away  most 
of  her  rights.  Ignorant  of  the  legal  as- 
pects of  the  case,  and  recognizing  that  her 
adversaries,  with  their  great  influence, 
would  have  little  trouble  in  a  contest  with 
a  friendless  girl,  she  was  ready  to  agree 


La  San-Severina  127 

to  a  compromise  which  left  her  hardly 
enough  to  support  herself,  when  some- 
thing entirely  unexpected  came  to  renew 
her  courage  and  change  the  course  of  her 
ideas. 

One  morning,  after  returning  from 
mass  at  St.  Mark's,  she  crossed  the  Place, 
modestly  veiled  and  accompanied  by  the 
woman  with  whom  she  had  taken  up  her 
abode,  when,  face  to  face,  she  met  the 
Prince  de  Metternich,  who,  as  it  hap- 
pened, was  just  returning  from  Milan. 
Transfixed  by  the  beauty  of  the  young 
girl,  he  made  some  inquiries  and  soon 
learned  everything  about  her.  He  had 
formerly  known  the  Count  Orio,  and  had 
always  admired  the  nobility  of  his  char- 
acter, though  he  did  not  imitate  it.  He 
had  never  forgotten  him,  though  he  had 
not  seen  him  for  many  years. 

Upon  learning  that  the  young  girl  was 
in  danger  of  losing  her  patrimony,  his 
hard  heart  was  softened  for  the  first  time. 
He  investigated  the  claims  of  the  count's 


128  L'Aiglon 

family,  assured  himself  that  they  were  not 
founded  in  justice,  and,  by  his  powerful 
influence,  succeeded  in  having  the  case 
dropped.  The  girl,  upon  learning  the 
role  that  Metternich  had  played  in  the 
matter,  thanked  him  and  promised  that 
she  would  do  anything  in  her  power  to 
requite  his  kindness. 

Such  was  the  jewel  which  the  wily  dip- 
lomat designed  to  take  out  of  its  case 
and  make  sparkle  under  the  chandeliers 
of  Schonbrunn.  He  had  little  doubt  that 
she  would  captivate  the  Duke  of  Reich- 
stadt,  and  dispel  from  his  mind  all 
thoughts  of  France  and  Colette. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE     TEMPTER 

UPON  receiving  the  letter  from  Met- 
ternich  directing  her  to  come  at 
once  to  the  imperial  residence  of  Schon- 
brunn  the  young  countess  was  both  as- 
tonished and  delighted.  It  was  not  sur- 
prising to  her  that  the  chancellor  should 
have  constituted  himself  her  defender,  in 
view  of  the  kind  feelings  that  he  enter- 
tained toward  her  father ;  but  she  had  not 
supposed  that  his  kindness  would  reach 
to  the  extent  of  withdrawing  her  from  her 
obscurity  and  placing  her  in  such  an  en- 
viable position  with  the  archduchess — a 
position  usually  reserved  for  those  with 
more  quarterings  in  their  coats-of-arms 
than  she  possessed.  Her  father,  to  be 
sure,  was  noble ;  but  then  her  mother  was 
9 


130  L'Aiglon 

a  dancer.  She  knew  that  people  of  the 
theatre,  even  those  of  the  purest  char- 
acter, were  excluded  from  society.  It  is 
not  surprising,  therefore,  that  the  young 
girl  felt  many  misgivings  as  to  how  she 
would  be  received  by  the  high-born 
women  with  whom  she  was  about  to  be 
brought  into  contact. 

Delighted  she  certainly  was;  for,  hav- 
ing lived  all  her  life  out  of  the  world  with 
her  father,  she  had  seen  little  of  the 
beauties  of  Venice. 

Yielding  to  destiny,  she  put  her  affairs 
in  order,  made  her  preparations  for  de- 
parture, and,  after  a  last  visit  to  the  little 
cemetery  where  reposed  the  remains  of 
those  she  loved  so  well,  she  set  forth  on 
her  journey  with  the  woman  whom  Met- 
ternich  had  sent  to  accompany  her. 

It  was  in  vain  that,  during  the  course 
of  their  long  journey,  she  tried  to  draw 
out  her  companion,  a  German  woman  in 
the  pay  of  the  chancellor.  The  woman 
took  refuge  in  an  obstinate  silence.  Vexed 


The  Tempter  131 

and  little  disposed  to  look  at  the  future 
favorably,  the  countess  almost  regretted 
having  obeyed  a  man  of  whom  she  knew 
so  little.  Carelessness,  the  characteristic 
of  youth,  and  a  desire  for  novelty  soon 
drove  away  the  light  clouds,  however, 
and  she  gave  a  thankful  sigh  when  they 
came  into  view  of  the  chateau. 

She  had  been  hardly  an  hour  in  the 
apartment  reserved  for  her  when  she  was 
sent  for  by  the  chancellor. 

The  wily  old  man,  with  a  view  of  win- 
ning over  the  young  girl,  had  thrown  off 
that  mask  of  severity  which  he  could  as- 
sume at  will,  and  it  was  in  the  most  pa- 
ternal manner  that  he  inquired  as  to  her 
health  and  the  incidents  of  the  journey. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  how 
grateful  I  am  for  your  prompt  compli- 
ance with  my  request,  and  I  believe  I  shall 
be  able  to  prove  my  gratitude.  It  will  be 
best  for  you  to  rest  for  a  few  days,  so  that 
you  may  familiarize  yourself  with  matters 
here,  and  become  acquainted  with  the 


132  L'Aiglon 

persons  you  must  associate  with.  I  sent 
for  you  so  promptly  because  I  desired  to 
give  you  some  instructions  as  to  how  to 
conduct  yourself  with  these  people.  Be- 
fore going  into  that,  however,  it  is  neces- 
sary for  me  to  impress  upon  you  that  you 
must  follow  my  requirements  blindly  if 
you  wish  to  live  peacefully  and  not  be- 
come a  victim  of  female  intrigue.  Such 
things  are  not  dangerous  in  themselves, 
but  they  would  wear  you  out  and  cause 
you  finally  to  give  up  your  place  here." 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  the  countess,  "  I 
will  make  it  my  business  to  see  that  you 
are  satisfied  with  me  in  every  particular." 

"  I  expected  no  less,"  returned  the 
chancellor.  "  Now,  I  believe  it  is  best 
that  I  go  back  to  our  first  interview  in 
Venice.  When  I  saw  you  first  I  was 
literally  dazzled  by  your  beauty." 

Noticing  the  girl  blushing,  he  hastened 
to  add : 

"  My  age  and  the  friendship  'I  had  for 
your  father  permit  me  to  speak  with  free- 


The  Tempter  133 

dom,  without  causing  you  offence.  I 
made  inquiry,  and  had  no  trouble  in 
learning  all  about  you.  Then  I  went  to 
work,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  stop 
the  unjust  proceedings  that  your  father's 
people  had  instituted  against  you. 

"  If  I  bring  these  facts  up  again,  it  is 
not  to  appeal  to  your  gratitude,  but  to  let 
you  know  what  plans  I  at  once  sketched 
out  for  you. 

"  Now  I  am  coming  to  the  matter  in 
hand. 

"  When  Fate  put  an  end  to  the  power 
of  Napoleon,  and  banished  him  forever 
to  that  isle  where  he  breathed  his  last, 
the  Emperor  Francis  I.  could  do  noth- 
ing else  than  receive  at  court  the  son 
born  of  an  unfortunate  union  of  the 
Archduchess  Marie  Louise  with  the 
Usurper. 

"  At  first  there  was  little  trouble  in 
managing  the  boy;  'he  had  but  a  slight 
recollection  of  his  father,  and  that  would 
have  faded  out  in  time.  Unfortunately, 


134  L'Aiglon 

the  archduchess,  who  should  have  had 
nothing  more  to  do  with  France,  brought 
two  young  Frenchmen  here  in  her  suite ; 
and  from  that  moment  the  security  which 
we  were  experiencing  disappeared  for- 
ever. These  young  men  interested  them- 
selves in  the  studies  of  the  Duke  of 
Reichstadt — so  called  after  the  city  of 
Reichstadt,  which  he  had  received  as  an 
appanage.  At  every  hour  of  the  day  they 
were  coming  and  going  in  the  chateau ; 
they  were  constantly  getting  up  riding 
and  fencing  parties  with  him;  and  thus, 
under  pretence  of  perfecting  him  in 
physical  exercises,  they  opened  to  him 
a  new  horizon  by  detailing  to  him  the 
deeds  of  his  father. 

"  I  was  not  informed  how  things  were 
going  until  it  was  too  late.  I  lost  no  time 
in  packing  the  Frenchmen  home  again, 
but  the  evil  was  done;  and  since  then 
matters  have  gone  from  bad  to  worse. 

"  You  are  the  one  I  have  chosen  to 
remedy  this. 


The  Tempter  135 

"  In  this  vast  imperial  residence,  where 
everything  seems  to  have  gone  to  sleep, 
as  in  a  fairy  story,  there  is  going  to  be 
a  stupendous  change.  There  are  to  be 
hunts,  tournaments,  and  fetes,  and  there 
must  be  a  queen  to  preside  over  them — 
a  Queen  of  Beauty,  you  understand — 
and  this  queen  is  to  be  no  other  than 
yourself. 

"  Will  you  refuse  ?  If  you  do,  you  will 
make  a  great  mistake.  The  duke  is 
young,  amiable,  and  handsome.  And 
then  a  ducal  crown  is  not  to  be  despised. 
Why  should  you  not  be  a  duchess  some 
day?  That  is  better  than  your  title  of 
countess,  which  is  more  or  less  con- 
testable. 

"  You  are  silent ;  but  I  read  in  your 
eyes  that  you  will  accept.  I  warn  you  that 
you  will  have  no  easy  task.  You  have  a 
rival  already.  Before  you  came  the  duke 
had  begun  an  intrigue  with  a  young 
French  girl,  whose  habitation  you  can 
see  from  here." 


136  L'Aiglon 

And,  raising  the  curtain,  he  showed  her 
Silvere's  eottage. 

"  It  is  in  that  cottage,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  that  the  greatest  part  of  our  trou- 
bles have  been  hatched. 

"  Now  you  are  young  and  beautiful. 
I  believe  you  have  understood  me." 

And,  as  she  made  no  reply,  he  took  her 
hand  and  said : 

"  Be  irresistible,  and  we  will  make  you 
a  duchess. 

"  Now  go  to  rest.  If  you  stay  up  longer 
your  complexion  will  suffer,  and  those 
pink  roses  in  your  cheeks  will  fade. 
Adieu  till  I  see  you  again." 

She  departed;  and  Metternich  rubbed 
his  hands  and  laughed  in  the  manner  that 
Goethe  has  made  Mephistopheles  do. 

The  shameless  tempter  had  carried  up 
to  the  top  of  the  mountain  that  young 
soul  which  he  had  judged  could  be 
bought  by  ambition.  If  events  answered 
to  his  hopes,  the  duke,  enmeshed  in  an 
amorous  intrigue,  captivated  by  the 


The  Tempter  137 

charms  of  the  new  siren,  would  bid  adieu 
to  ambition ;  and  Colette,  wounded  in  her 
first  love  and  outraged  in  her  pride, 
would  refuse  to  remain  and  be  a  witness 
to  the  triumph  of  her  rival.  She  would 
leave  Schonbrunn,  taking  Silvere  with 
her.  • 

Thus,  without  a  contest  and  without  a 
scene,  Metternich  would  attain  his  end. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

FAILURE 

IN  planting  in  the  countess's  heart  the 
seed  which  was  to  bear  the  fruit 
suited  to  his  ambitious  views,  the  chan- 
cellor had  been  guided  by  that  marvellous 
perspicacity  which  never  failed  him  in  his 
choice  of  the  most  fitting  instruments  to 
carry  out  his  views.  How  delighted  he 
would  have  been  could  he  have  read  to 
the  depths  of  her  soul,  and  seen  how 
everything  had  yielded  before  the  smil- 
ing perspective  that  he  had  shown  her. 

Maria  Assunta  had,  until  that  time, 
passed  a  calm,  retired  existence.  Igno- 
rant of  life,  and  absorbed  in  the  studies 
which  occupied  her  entirely,  she  had 
never  had  the  time  to  consider  the  future. 
The  proposals  of  Metternich  had  caused 


Failure  139 

her  astonishment ;  but  that  feeling  was  of 
but  short  duration.  She  quickly  stifled 
the  voice  of  conscience,  which  told  her 
that  she  did  wrong  to  listen  to  him  and 
consent  to  be  a  party  to  an  enterprise  of 
which  the  end  was  not  difficult  to  divine. 
Her  ambition  was  aroused,  and  it  was 
with  hearty  good-will  that  she  set  about 
preparing  to  play  the  part  assigned  her. 

Everything  was  made  easy  for  her. 
The  very  day  after  her  arrival  the  chan- 
cellor provided  her  with  an  abigail,  who 
at  once  ordered  from  Vienna  the  most 
becoming  dresses,  and  court  costumes 
of  fabulous  richness  and  splendor. 

The  fetes  began.  At  first  they  con- 
sisted merely  of  hunting  parties.  Not 
knowing  how  to  ride  (an  accomplishment 
not  required  in  Venice), she  had  to  remain 
in  the  chateau ;  and  she  soon  learned  all 
about  the  building. 

The  duke,  up  to  this  time,  had  con- 
cerned himself  little  with  what  was  going 
on ;  but,  having  met  her  one  day  in  one  of 


140  L'Aiglon 

the  galleries,  he  was  so  much  impressed 
with  her  beauty  that  he  could  not  refrain 
from  making  some  inquiries  about  her. 
From  that  time  she  had  always  the  shad- 
owy feeling  that  he  was  interested  in  her. 
Something  which  happened  a  few  days 
afterward  could  not  but  confirm  that 
idea. 

The  aristocratic  ladies  attached  to  the 
person  of  the  archduchess  had  beheld 
with  vexation  the  indefinable  charms  of 
this  stranger,  who  attracted  the  admira- 
tion of  every  one.  The  aides-de-camp, 
who  formed  the  greater  part  of  the  men  at 
the  imperial  residence,  and  who  were  able 
to  refuse  nothing  to  the  fair  sex,  entered 
into  a  plot  against  the  newcomer ;  and  one 
evening  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
the  breakers  that  the  chancellor  had 
warned  her  of.  Upon  the  order  of  the 
Archduchess  Sophia,  la  San-Severina  was 
to  sing  the  finale  of  the  "  Servante  Mai- 
tresse  "  of  Paisiello.  The  feeling  and 
brio  which  she  showed  in  the  interpre- 


Failure  14 1 

tation  of  this  difficult  morceau  would  or- 
dinarily have  called  forth  the  enthusiastic 
bravas  of  the  assembly.  Instead  of  that, 
however,  a  dead  silence  succeeded  the  last 
note ;  and  when  she  left  the  harpsichord 
to  return  to  her  place  no  one  offered  his 
arm  to  lead  her  there. 

The  duke,  who  was  present,  perceiving 
the  ignominious  manner  in  which  the 
young  girl  was  treated,  and  wishing  to 
give  the  Austrians  a  lesson  which  he 
thought  their  haughty  arrogance  de- 
manded, stepped  quickly  to  her  side,  and, 
offering  her  his  arm  in  the  most  cour- 
teous manner,  conducted  her  to  her  chair 
be'hind  the  archduchess. 

The  ice  was  broken. 

The  first  thing  the  next  morning  the 
countess's  abigail  knocked  at  her  door 
and  presented  her,  with  the  compliments 
of  the  Prince  de  Metternich,  a  superb  fan 
adorned  with  dainty  miniatures  by  Wat- 
teau.  At  the  bottom  of  the  sandal-wood 
box  containing  the  gift  was  a  brief  note 


142  L'Aiglon 

in  the  chancellor's  writing.  She  read  the 
following : 

"  Now  is  the  time ;  act." 

It  was  the  middle  of  September;  and 
the  grove  where  two  incidents  of  this 
story  have  already  occurred  had  not  yet 
lost  its  leaves.  The  colors  of  the  trees 
had  undergone  a  change,  and  the  gold  of 
autumn  had  succeeded  to  the  green  of 
summer. 

It  had  occurred  to  the  duke  to  visit 
again  the  temple  where  he  had  lost  his 
heart.  Perhaps  he  had  expected  to  meet 
Colette  there ;  certainly  he  was  much  sur- 
prised to  see  what  he  did.  La  San-Se- 
verina,  beautiful  as  the  morning,  was 
seated  on  the  marble  bench  and  seemed  to 
him  like  another  Diana  the  Huntress, 
who  had  laid  aside  for  a  moment  her  bow 
and  arrows  that  she  might  enjoy  like  a 
simple  mortal  the  beauty  of  the  day. 

Upon  seeing  the  duke  she  blushed,  as 
if  surprised  in  a  wrong  action,  and  made 
a  movement  as  if  to  retire.  The  duke, 


Failure  143 

however,  begged  her  not  to  go,  and  sat 
down  at  her  side. 

"  Monseigneur,"  said  she,  "  I  bless  the 
chance  that  brought  you  here.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  important  service  your 
Excellency  rendered  me  in  putting  a  stop 
to  the  insulting  scene  of  which  I  was  the 
victim,  and  which,  I  beg  you  to  believe, 
I  had  done  nothing  to  deserve.  My 
chagrin  was  so  great  that  I  believe  I 
hardly  said  anything  at  the  time.  I 
take  the  opportunity  to  make  amends 
now,  and  I  thank  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart.  I  have  always  been  told  that 
you  are  generous  and  noble,  and  I  know 
now  that  I  was  not  deceived." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  mademoiselle,"  he  replied, 
"  you  exaggerate  the  importance  of  the 
very  slight  courtesy  I  was  able  to  render 
you.  You  were  alone,  a  prey  to  the 
malevolence  that  its  authors  did  not  take 
the  trouble  to  conceal.  I  was  an  indig- 
nant witness  of  that  cowardly  attack.  I 
simply  intervened  as  a  Frenchman  and  a 


144  L'Aiglon 

gentleman.  If  you  'had  had  a  brother 
present  he  would  have  done  no  less." 

"  A  brother,"  said  the  young  girl ; 
"  alas,  I  have  none.  I  am  alone  in  the 
world.  If  I  had  a  friend " 

And  she  underlined  the  last  few  words 
with  a  look  of  languor,  as  she  moved 
closer  to  him. 

"  A  day  will  come,"  said  the  duke, 
"  when  you  will  have  a  faithful  and  de- 
voted one,  and  you  will  be  able  to  laugh 
at  these  silly  people.  You  will  be  every- 
thing to  him;  and  nothing,  except  his 
honor,  will  be  so  precious  to  him.  At 
every  hour  in  the  day  your  dear  image 
will  be  present  with  him,  and  he  will 
tremble  at  the  sound  of  your  footfall." 

"  What  you  say  to  me,"  she  replied, 
"  makes  the  blood  course  through  my 
veins  like  molten  lava.  An  ardor  which  I 
have  never  experienced  before  suffuses 
me  and  makes  my  tongue  powerless 
to  utter  the  words  which  would  explain 
my  thought.  Oh,  what  a  lover  you  are ! 


Failure  145 

And  how  happy  will  the  life  of  that 
woman  be  who  spends  her  days  with  you ; 
for  each  day  will  be  a  festival  to  her ;  she 
will  not  know  what  envy  is,  nor  what  is 
meant  by  hate;  she  will  know  no  other 
universe;  you  will  be  her  all,  her  king 
and  her  god. 

"  And  when  you  die,  she  will  follow 
you,  for  her  life  would  be  darkness " 

The  duke  said  not  a  word. 

Disconcerted  and  mortified  by  his 
silence,  she  rose  up.  Reichstadt  took 
her  by  the  hand  and  made  her  sit  down 
again ;  then  he  said : 

"  I  understand  your  emotion,  but  I  did 
not  wish  to  give  you  to  understand  that  it 
is  I  who  love  in  that  manner.  She  is  a 
simple  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  soldier.  If 
you  lean  forward,  you  can  see  the  cotbage 
where  she  lives.  One  May  morning  I 
gave  her  my  heart  in  this  very  grove,  and 
I  have  never  sought  to  have  it  returned 
to  me.  Fortune  has  separated  us ;  but,  in 
spite  of  all  obstacles,  I  love  her,  for  she  is 


146  L'Aiglon 

simple  and  true ;  and  her  lofty  soul  is  the 
emblem  of  my  beloved  France,  forever 
lost  to  me/' 

The  countess  saw  clearly  that  this 
stricken  heart  belonged  solely  to  Colette, 
and  that  her  coquetry  had  been  a  waste 
of  time, 

She  bowed  respectfully  to  him,  and  re- 
turned to  the  chateau  to  report  to  her 
protector  that  their  hopes  were  ship- 
wrecked. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   VISION 

IT  is  winter. 
The  cold  has  come,  and  a  storm, 
which  is  every  minute  becoming  more  se- 
vere, has  made  havoc  in  the  park  and 
gardens  of  Schonbrunn.  The  wind  bends 
over  great  trees  as  if  they  were  saplings, 
demolishes  the  groves,  and  beats  at  the 
giant  walls  of  the  chateau  as  if  it  would 
cast  them  to  the  earth. 

In  the  venerable  pile  many  lights  can 
be  seen  coming  and  going,  carried  by 
nervous  and  trembling  hands.  How  dif- 
ferent this  night  from  that  spring  even- 
ing when  the  pale  light  of  a  student's 
lamp  glimmered  in  the  apartment  of 
L'Aiglon. 

The  tempest,  which  has  all  its  own 


148  L'Aiglon 

way  outside,  seems  to  have  taken  pos- 
session of  the  palace  within,  so  extreme 
is  the  agitation  there.  In  the  spacious 
galleries  servants  hurry  hither  and  thither, 
silent  and  busy.  Up  the  mafble  steps 
leading  to  the  grand  entrance  an  old  man, 
surrounded  by  priests  and  attendants,  ad- 
vances solemnly  under  the  bobbing  lights 
of  the  candles,  stopping  from  time  to 
time  to  bestow  a  benediction  on  the  faith- 
ful who  kneel  before  him. 

It  is  the  Archbishop  of  Vienna,  who 
is  come  to  administer  extreme  unction; 
for  one  has  arrived  in  the  chateau  who 
comes  to  visit  all  of  this  world,  poor  and 
rich ;  and  his  name  is  Death. 

The  Duke  of  Reichstadt,  whom  his 
proud  father  at  his  birth  named  the  King 
of  Rome,  in  a  few  short  hours  will  have 
lived  his  span  of  life.  Having  nothing 
more  to  hope  from  destiny,  the  captive 
Eaglet  is  unable  to  reconcile  himself  to 
the  thought  of  living ;  and,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page  where  history  shall  treat  of 


The  Vision  149 

his  life,  future  generations  will  read  these 
words :  "  He  never  reigned." 

Poor  exile !  There  was  but  one  person 
on  earth  to  treat  him  with  tenderness — 
a  woman,  almost  a  child ;  every  one  else 
acted  with  indifference;  and  without 
sympathy  he  could  not  live.  To  his  en- 
emies his  death  will  be  a  relief,  for  they 
feared  him. 

Since  that  fatal  night,  when  a  traitor 
blocked  his  way  to  power,  he  became  a 
prey  to  an  overpowering  weariness.  He 
could  no  longer  endure  the  monotony  of 
existence ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  encourage- 
ment of  Silvere  and  the  tender  consola- 
tion of  Colette,  he  could  do  naught  but 
count  the  slow  hours.  A  terrible  malady 
made  his  last  days  still  more  gloomy.  It 
sat  at  his  pillow  and  kept  him  awake ;  it 
besieged  him  without  a  pause ;  it  hollowed 
his  cheeks  and  chiselled  deep  wrinkles  on 
his  brow ;  and,  raising  the  curtain  which 
conceals  the  future,  it  showed  him  the 
grim  monster  which  awaited  him. 


150  L'Aiglon 

To  die  so  young!  To  dream  such  a 
glorious  destiny  and  then  end  in  nothing ! 
The  young  of  the  Eagle,  he  must  pass 
away,  far  from  his  own  aerie,  in  the  nest 
of  a  stranger ! 

The  malady  every  day  grows  more  se- 
vere, and  he  is  filled  with  horror  of  the 
great  palace,  a  twin  of  the  marble  tomb 
where,  to-morrow,  he  will  be  laid  away  to 
sleep.  If  he  could  warm  himself  in  the 
sun's  rays ;  if  he  could  but  descend  to  the 
park  and  talk  with  Silvere  and  sport  once 
more  with  Colette !  But  that  is  impos- 
sible, for  winter  is  here.  The  flowers  are 
gone,  and  in  the  grove,  sweet  birthplace 
of  his  love  for  Colette,  the  leaves  are 
blown  away  by  the  harsh  blasts. 

Like  the  grove  itself,  the  young  girl 
has  suffered.  Misery  has  added  years  to 
her  age — years  which  count  double,  for 
the  past  seems  to  have  extended  back 
infinitely. 

Yesterday  the  young  man  forced  him- 
self to  read ;  he  took  up  one  by  one  those 


The  Vision  151 

bulletins  where  the  name  of  his  father, 
inscribed  on  every  page,  recalls  some  vic- 
tory. He  laid  them  down  again.  What 
was  the  use  of  it  now? 

Feeling  that  his  end  had  come,  the  duke 
sent  for  the  two  faithful  friends  who  had 
partaken  of  his  evil  fortune.  At  this 
solemn  moment  he  wished  to  hold  their 
hands  in  his  and  delude  himself  with 
the  idea  that  he  was  dying  in  his  own 
land. 

The  storm  increases  in  intensity,  and 
his  agony  redoubles.  He  dozes  off  for  a 
moment,  but  suddenly  awakes. 

In  that  supreme  moment  when  the 
dying,  forgetful  of  the  present,  see  into 
the  Beyond,  his  face,  worn  out  with  suf- 
fering, emaciated  by  watching,  recovers, 
for  a  fleeting  instant,  its  former  beauty. 
His  eyes,  dim  with  the  approach  of  death, 
become  clear,  and  his  pale  lips  recover 
their  old-time  color.  Colette  and  Silvere 
hold  him  up  in  their  arms.  Then  the 
voice  of  the  duke,  loud  and  vibrant, 


152  L'Aiglon 

sounds  forth  in  the  silence  of 'the  night 
above  the  thunders  of  heaven's  artil- 
lery : 

"  What  marvellous  spectacle  is  that? 

"  The  fogs  of  winter  have  disappeared 
forever,  and  the  balmy  air  of  spring 
caresses  my  hair. 

"  I  have  had  a  sad  dream.  God !  how 
long  it  lasted ! 

"  I  dreamed  I  was  sad  and  alone, 
and  that  I  was  a  slave.  I  was  chained 
to  a  rock,  and  the  sea-waves  beat  below 
me. 

"  As  they  receded  they  left  at  my  feet 
monsters  of  frightful  aspect  which 
mocked  me,  powerless. 

"  That  dream  ended — an  enormous 
eagle,  with  outstretched  pinions,  de- 
scended from  the  vault  of  heaven  and 
broke  my  bonds,  scattered  my  enemies, 
and  placed  me  at  liberty.  Since  that 
blessed  hour  what  weary  leagues  I  have 
travelled ! 

"  Methought  a  gentle  hand  guided  me 


The  Vision  153 

on  my  way.  How  many  times  in  the 
night,  under  the  vault  of  heaven,  the  stars 
for  lamps,  have  I  felt  a  warm  breath 
fanning  my  brow ! 

"  But  I  have  reached  the  end. 

"  The  walls  of  the  chateau  have  dis- 
appeared, and  France  is  present  and 
awaits  some  one.  And  he  for  whom 
they  are  waiting  and  for  whom  the  pon- 
tiff prepares  the  sacred  chrism  is  my- 
self, the  son  of  the  Eagle. 

"  I  feel  my  wings.  Let  the  rush  of  bat- 
tle inspire  the  notes  of  the  organ  and 
make  it  thunder  forth  a  song.  I  advance 
to  the  sound  of  a  warlike  march ;  the  flags 
of  France  bend  before  me.  The  soul  of 
France  seems  to  animate  their  folds.  It 
hovers  over  me,  and  I  feel  a  shudder 
which  almost  bursts  my  heart. 

"  But  who  are  those  two  female  forms 
at  my  side  ? 

"  I  remember. 

"  One  day,  a  young  girl  whom  I  loved 
told  me  that,  still  a  child,  her  mother  had 


154  L'Aiglon 

read  the  story  of  the  shepherdess  sent  by 
heaven  to  deliver  France. 

"  She  is  at  my  side — Joan,  the  shepherd 
girl. 

"  But  the  other ;  who  is  she  ?  A  child 
of  the  people  who  made  the  Huns  pause, 
and  said  to  Attila,  '  No  farther  shalt  thou 
go.'  She  saved  Paris  from  sack  and  pil- 
lage. God  sent  her  to  me  that  I  might 
take  her  hand  and  come  to  Him. 

"  But  a  black  cloud  covers  the  sky. 
I  see  a  black  marsh,  and  from  it  ser- 
pents issue  forth.  Good  God,  grant  that 
they  may  not  come  near  me ! 

"  They  are  gone. 

"  Tell  me,  dear  Colette,  do  you  remem- 
ber those  fleeting  hours  when  under  the 
stars  we  lived,  lived? 

" '  Thus  shall  we  grow  old  together, 
and  when  our  heads  are  crowned  with 
snow  we  will  go  to  God  and  continue 
there  for  evermore  our  dream  of  love/ 

"  My  father  awaits  me,  and  I  must  join 


The  Vision  155 

him ;  but  thou  wilt  come,  too — I  love  thee 
so!" 

The  vision  had  ended. 
L'Aiglon  had  lived. 

Silvere,  restraining  his  tears,  left  Co- 
lette to  her  grief,  and,  drawing  forth  from 
a  secret  drawer  of  the  desk  a  tri-color, 
spread  it  reverently  over  the  body.  In  its 
folds,  blackened  by  powder  and  torn  by 
shot,  Reichstadt  was  to  sleep  forever, 
carrying  with  him  to  his  foreign  grave 
something  of  the  France  he  had  lost. 

Just  as  Silvere  finished  his  task  the 
door  opened  quietly. 

On  the  threshold  stood  Metternich. 

At  the  sight  the  soldier  started  as  if 
stung;  and,  placing  himself  before  the 
couch  where  the  duke  reposed,  he  said  to 
the  intruder: 

"  Monseigneur,  your  task  is  per- 
formed; rejoice  and  be  glad.  But  do 
not  tempt  God  by  remaining  here. 


156  L'Aiglon 

"  Do  you  see  that  kneeling  woman  ? 
It  is  France  who  weeps. 

"  Go !  Your  presence  is  an  insult  to 
her  woe." 


Press  of  J.  J.  Littlr  A  Co., 
Astor  Place,  New  York. 


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